


Again

by Cherry



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Age difference in chapter 3, But quite fluffy despite all that!, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mentions Of Infidelity, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Suicide, Reincarnation AU, Some spoilers for ACWNR and Attack on Titan manga up to current chapter, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-01-16 22:36:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 39,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1364281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherry/pseuds/Cherry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erwin and Levi find themselves constantly reincarnated in more or less the same bodies at random times throughout history. When they meet they remember not only their time in the Survey Corps, but all the other lives they've lived as well. Until they meet, they remember nothing. Usually, it gets messy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The first time I met you again

**Author's Note:**

> I really like reincarnation AUs - all that longing and angst - but I was also in a fluffy mood. Perhaps I've just been writing too much "Coup de Grace" Erwin lately. Here, he knows how he feels about Levi, if nothing else! 
> 
> Chapters of this will jump around in time, and will be updated as and when the mood strikes. I'm quite fond of C18th sailing ships, so there may be a chapter on that. The whole of history to choose from! Where will they end up?

This was one of the worst ones to date – in so far as the date had any meaning when there seemed to be no pattern to the times into which they were reborn. Erwin looked down, smiling, at his lovely bride, and then up at the camera. Rosalind’s small hand, in its expensive white satin glove, rested lightly on his arm as she composed her face for the photograph. On her right, her father visibly swelled with pride beneath his new silk top hat. The photographer emerged from beneath the black cloth that kept light from spoiling the picture.

“Keep still now, ladies and gents,” he said, reaching for the ignition switch for the flash, his eyes on the wedding party, checking the composition. Father and mother of the bride, three bridesmaids, bride, groom –

The photographer’s eyes met the groom’s.

 “Oh!” Erwin whispered. Rosalind turned to look at him and the flash went off with the usual bang and puff of smoke; the usual half-startled laughter.

“The bride went an’ moved,” the photographer said, frowning quite fiercely. “We’ll ’ave to do another one. Take your places again. - If you’d be so kind,” he finished, the courtesy an obvious afterthought. While he changed the plates and poured new powder onto the flash stand, Rosalind’s grip on Erwin’s arm tightened slightly. “What did you say?” she asked. “Do you know that man?”

“I’m not sure,” Erwin said, playing for time. “He – I think he looks like someone I knew at school, but I’m probably mistaken.”

“He sounds like a Cockney, and there’s a foreign cast to him,” Rosalind said quietly. “How could someone like that have been at your school?”

“You’re right, of course,” Erwin replied, pressing her hand gently. “It’s probably just a remarkable resemblance. But they do say every man has his doppelganger.”

“Goodness!” Rosalind smiled. “Well, in that case, I do hope I’ve married the real Erwin Smith!”

When the second photograph had been successfully taken, the photographer began to pack away immediately, while the wedding party started to make their way across the lawn towards the house. Erwin looked back, and Rosalind slipped her arm out of his. “Go and ask him,” she said. Erwin gave her a surprised look. “The photographer,” Rosalind added, thinking Erwin hadn’t understood. “I know you, Erwin – you’ll be wondering about it all day if you don’t ask. Find out if it is your old school pal, or not. I want to talk to Mama about the gifts, anyhow.”

“All right,” Erwin replied, grateful to her for having given him the excuse he’d been struggling for. “I’ll ask him. Why not?”

Rosalind watched her new husband walking back towards the little, scowling photographer, marvelling for a moment at the differences in God’s creation, that one man could be made so small, dark and swarthy, while another could be so beautifully tall, blond and fair. And to think Papa had sniffed at her choice, at first, and said she could do better! Erwin might not be quite as rich as the family would have liked, and _Smith_ was, it had to be admitted, a rather common kind of surname, but when a prospective husband was so _very_ handsome such shortcomings could be overlooked. He really was a fine figure of a man, even Mama had agreed. And think of the grandchildren, as Aunt Lillian had so scandalously whispered! Rosalind turned and walked back towards the house with all the proper poise expected in a married woman, but she felt like skipping with joy.

“Can I ’elp you, Sir?” the photographer asked, doing a good job of appearing to be busy with dismantling the flash stand as Erwin approached.

“Levi. There’s no point.”

Levi went still, his hand gripping the metal stand so tightly that Erwin could see the whiteness of bone beneath the thin skin on each knuckle. “Then pretend! For god’s sake, Erwin – it’s your wedding day!”

Erwin placed one hand over Levi’s. “I’ll admit the timing is even more unfortunate than usual –”

“ _Unfortunate!_ ” Levi turned at that, shaking off Erwin’s hand, his expression bleak. “It’s impossible! It’s always impossible. Why does this keep on happening?”

“I don’t know, any more than you do. But - you remember everything, don’t you? The Survey Corps – the titans?”

“And I remember how it ended. Go back to your bride, Erwin.”

“I will. I have to. And then there’s the honeymoon – the Italian lakes. But we’ll be back in a month.”

Levi’s mouth hardened. “Don’t ask me –”

“We’ll just talk. Only, please – don’t run. Not again, Levi. Don’t run.”

“We never ‘just talk’. You know that.”

“Promise me, Levi.”

Levi sighed. “You bastard…”

“Give me your word.”

“All right. I promise. _Shit_.”

 

“Was it your old school friend?” Rosalind asked, when Erwin rejoined her. She smiled up at him, her eyes the same china blue he’d fallen in love with, the pale gold of her hair still beautiful. But everything was different now.

“No,” Erwin replied. “No – you were quite right, of course. Not even all that similar, close to.”

“I didn’t really see how it could have been,” Rosalind said, shaking her head. “A tradesman like that. One could see at once that he wasn’t _our_ sort of person at all.”

 _It’s not her fault_ , Erwin reminded himself. _Ten minutes ago I would have agreed with her._

How could Rosalind have any idea that ten minutes ago Erwin had had no recollection of any existence but the idyllic one they shared, in which both of them had been born into wealth and high society? How could she guess that the moment he’d met the photographer’s gaze he had been flooded with the consciousness of more than two hundred lives in which she had possibly never even existed – lives where the only constant, aside from Erwin’s own physical body, had been the presence of Levi?

*

Levi opened the door and sighed when he saw Erwin. “You’d better come up.”

He led the way up a narrow, dark staircase into a bedroom that was cramped and sparsely furnished but immaculately clean, as always.

“How were the Italian lakes?”

“Beautiful. They don’t change.”

Levi gave him a faint, bitter smile. “Some things don’t.”

Erwin was already undoing the cheap horn buttons of Levi’s flannel jacket. Levi’s hands pressed against Erwin’s chest for a moment, nowhere near hard enough to push him away, before seizing the lapels of Erwin’s coat, as though involuntarily.

“What happened to ‘just talking’? Levi asked, his mouth an inch from Erwin’s.

“We never ‘just talk’,” Erwin said, his smile a little cruel against Levi’s lips.

“Bastard,” Levi murmured, between kisses, as they undressed each other with as much haste as the stiff buttons and many layers of their clothing would allow.

“I know,” Erwin admitted, licking Levi’s neck, kissing along the line of his jaw, as his fingers worked to unknot the inevitable plain white cotton neckerchief, “I know.”

When they were completely naked, Levi took a step back, and for a long moment, both of them stood still, looking. Erwin took Levi’s right hand in his and turned it palm up, his eyes on the raw pink scar that ran from Levi’s wrist to his elbow.

“Flash powder,” Levi said. “I used too much. Rookie mistake.” He shook his head. “I’m better at fighting titans than I am at photography. You still have both arms, anyway.”

“So far,” Erwin smiled. “Give it time.”

“Tch. Well, we seem to have plenty of that. Although –”

“It’s never simple, is it?” Erwin asked.

“Not so far. I hate your moustache. Fucking Edwardian facial hair.”

“I could shave it off.”

“No you couldn’t. What would –”

“Don’t, Levi. You know –”

“Yeah, I know.”

Erwin bent his head and kissed the scar on Levi’s arm. Levi ran his left hand through Erwin’s hair. “Huh. At least you left off the Macassar Oil.”

“Out of consideration for your sheets.”

“Oh – so you assumed sex?” Levi asked.

Erwin looked up at him, and then knelt to lick a wet line from Levi’s balls to the tip of his erect cock.

“I did assume that, yes,” Erwin said.

“Bastard,” whispered Levi again, reverently, closing his eyes, trying not to tremble too hard as Erwin took his cock deep into his mouth and began to suck.

Levi concentrated on the pure pleasure that was Erwin’s mouth on him, shutting out all thoughts of past lives, or what the future of this one might hold. _This is real – this, and now_ , he told himself, opening his eyes again, gazing down at the soft gold of Erwin’s hair in the lamplight. The heat of Erwin’s mouth, and the even more intense heat in his eyes when he looked up and ran his fingers with teasing lightness down the backs of Levi’s thighs as he sucked harder, was already almost too much -

“Wait! Fuck, Erwin – slow down,” Levi gasped.

Erwin let Levi’s cock slide out of his mouth and sat back on his heels, smiling. “So soon?”

Levi controlled himself with an effort, breathing hard. “Yeah, well, it’s been a while.”

“How long?”

Levi looked towards the bed. “Too long. I just want –”

“Anything,” said Erwin fervently. “Anything you want, Levi.”

Levi went to the bed and turned down the neatly tucked blankets and the top sheet, before getting in. Erwin climbed into the bed beside him, grimacing a little at the coldness of the sheets and wincing at the creaking of the springs.

“You always were an elephant!” Levi mocked. “But there’s only the shop underneath. No one will hear.”

Erwin turned on his side to face Levi, and reached to pull him close.

“Tell me what you want,” Erwin said softly.

“Nothing fancy,” Levi murmured into Erwin’s chest. “This – this is good. The smell of you.” He turned his head a little and flicked his tongue over Erwin’s right nipple. Erwin made a quiet, appreciative sound.

“You still like that, huh?”

“Always.”

Levi’s fingers trailed down Erwin’s side over his ribs. Erwin squirmed.

“Still ticklish there?”

“Yes. Yes!” Erwin yelped, grabbing Levi’s hand and rolling him onto his back. “What about you, here?” Erwin straddled Levi’s narrow hips, and leaned forward to find the exact spot on Levi’s neck that always drove him wild when it was licked and nibbled like –

“Fuck!” Levi gasped, writhing beneath Erwin, their cocks bumping against each other with the motion. He lifted his hips urgently, pressing himself against Erwin.

“Just – like this,” Levi panted, reaching between them to wrap his hand as far as he could around both their cocks, squeezing and rubbing them together.

Erwin knelt upright, pulling the blankets and sheets free, and letting them fall behind him, watching Levi’s hand working. The room was silent apart from their harsh breathing. Erwin’s gaze travelled from Levi’s hand around the shafts of their cocks, along his small, lean body, to his flushed face and parted lips.

“God, Levi,” he said, “I love –”

“Don’t!”

Levi’s brows drew together in a way that was so familiar Erwin’s heart ached. Levi dropped his hand to his side, and turned his head away, his eyes on the window, as though searching for an escape, even though the casement was closed and the curtains drawn. “Erwin – I know. But we agreed –”

“All right. We’ll talk, after. But don’t pretend you don’t want me.”

Levi sighed. “ _Of course_ I want you. Look at the state of me! I always fucking want you. That’s –”

Erwin’s much larger hand closed around their cocks in place of Levi's, and began to move with a firm, rhythmical stroke that left Levi gasping.

“Like this?” Erwin asked.

“Yeah. Yeah. Oh –”

Levi arched back on the pillow, his hips lifting off the mattress, fucking himself against the hard heat of Erwin’s cock and the warm pressure of his hand. Erwin leaned forward, never breaking the rhythm, and licked at Levi’s lower lip. Levi closed his mouth, tried to turn his head aside. Erwin’s hand tightened on Levi’s cock, and, when he gasped, Erwin kissed him deep and hard until he stopped pretending to fight.

“I love you,” Erwin said, thumbing the wet head of Levi’s cock, his hand moving faster.

“Shut the fuck up!”

“I love you.”

“Oh – god –”

Levi came into Erwin’s hand, his eyes on Erwin’s, his expression desperate. Erwin let go of Levi’s cock and brought himself off with a few more hard strokes. Levi’s lip curled disdainfully at the wet splash of come on his stomach. Erwin laughed softly and kissed Levi again, moving to lie at his side. Levi reached for a pair of neatly folded facecloths on the small table beside the bed, wiping himself clean with one and handing the other to Erwin.

“If you dare get that on my sheets –”

“I know better than that, Levi.” Erwin couldn’t keep the amusement from his voice.

Levi glared at him. “I’m glad you think this is funny. Fuck – this is disgusting. When do they invent real toilet paper and tissues, again?”

“Soon, I think,” Erwin said.

“Not soon enough.”

“This time is relatively civilized, anyway,” Erwin said. “It could be much worse. Remember the newspapers we used to cut up for toilet paper in the Survey Corps? Or - remember the heads on the _Andromeda_?”

Levi shuddered.

“Or that muddy pit outside Agincourt.” Erwin continued, merciless. “Or the latrines in –”

“All right, you’ve made your point! Edwardian England sucks, but it could be worse – I get it. Ugh – give me that. Levi took the dirty towels and got out of bed.”

“Where are you going?” Erwin asked.

“To put these to soak in a bucket downstairs.”

Erwin didn’t have to ask whether Levi really needed to do that _now_.

 

When Levi returned he turned out the gas lamp and stood still by the bed for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. The curtains were thin, and there was a faint light filtering through from somewhere – a street lamp or the moon, Erwin couldn’t tell. Blinking, he found he could just make out Levi’s silhouette against the pale rectangle of the window.

“You staying the night?” Levi asked as he climbed into bed. Erwin reached for his hand, and Levi allowed him to take it.

“Yes, if you’ll let me.”

“Where does – where are you supposed to be?”

“In town, on business. And picking up the wedding photo from you.”

“The photo turned out well, anyway. She’s - very pretty.”

“Yes. Bright, too. That Erwin was pretty thoroughly smitten.”

Levi sighed in the darkness. “I wish you wouldn’t do that. It’s creepy.”

“I don’t know what else to do. He wasn’t _me_.”

“I know. But we agreed we wouldn’t do this. Not if one of us was already with someone. We agreed.”

“We did. But when I saw you, I knew it wasn’t going to work. I can act the part of a good husband to Rosalind, but I can’t love her. Not now I remember. It’s not fair on her, but it’s a fact I can’t change.”

Levi’s fingers tightened around Erwin’s hand. “We could arrange an accident,” he said. “The shop is full of combustible chemicals. A gas explosion would be quick. If you were supposed to be coming here anyway, we could do it tomorrow morning, as soon as the street’s quiet.”

“Too risky,” Erwin said.

“I’d make sure there was no one close by. The shop next door is empty. The other side – ha – he’s a funeral director. He’ll be at work.”

“Too risky for _us_ ,” Erwin said. “What if this is the last time we come back?”

“You always say that.”

“It’s always true. Would you risk it?”

“No, not really.”

Levi moved closer, resting his head on Erwin’s shoulder. Erwin stroked his hair. “I miss the undercut,” he said, running his fingers down over the nape of Levi’s neck and back up, the shape of Levi’s skull comforting in its familiarity under his hand.

“Might be back in fashion in a decade or so,” Levi replied, his fingers moving, restless, over Erwin’s chest. “Since it seems we’re not going anywhere.”

“I’m sorry,” Erwin said. “It’s going to be shit for you. I could develop a sudden passion for photography – a gentleman’s hobby. It would be an excuse to see you.”

“I’m not coming to your house,” Levi said. “You’re not introducing me to your wife. This is exactly why I ran, the other times.”

“And how did that turn out?” Erwin asked. “You as good as drank yourself to death, or ended up in some pointless duel, or in prison. And I –”

“Wasted your life looking for me,” Levi said. “Yeah, I know. I thought time would make it better – that we could both make a life apart - but once you know, you can’t live a real life can you? It’s like – being in a play.”

Erwin chuckled suddenly.

“What?” Levi asked.

“That Cockney accent you had when we met – I assume that’s your actual accent in this life? It’s going to be so odd listening to you talking like that when other people are around.”

“Well you sound like a right toff, gov’ner,” Levi countered. “That’s what I mean – that _was_ my real voice, until I remembered, and now it sounds like - like a Cockney tradesman bit-part in a West End show.”

Erwin grew serious again. “It doesn’t matter what you sound like. We’ll stick to what we agreed as far as we can; I’ll do my best to give as convincing a performance as I can manage as Rosalind’s husband, you keep taking photographs, and we’ll meet when we can arrange it. It’s better than the alternatives – hurting everyone, or avoiding each other. And we’ll hope that there’s a next time, and that, if there is, we find each other before our lives are caught up with other people’s. If we keep coming back, we have to get lucky eventually, don’t we?”

“Unless this is hell, after all,” Levi said quietly.

Erwin bent his head and kissed the side of Levi’s cheek, then his mouth. “This isn’t hell, Levi.”

Levi said nothing to that, but he returned Erwin’s kiss with unusual gentleness.

“Makes a change to be able to sleep with you in a real bed, anyway,” Levi murmured, settling his head on Erwin’s shoulder again. “Those fucking hammocks on that frigate!”

Erwin put both arms around him, glad of the chance to hold him like that after so many years. “I wonder how we’ll die this time?” he asked.

“Tch. Morbid. As long as it’s quick.”

“As long as it’s _together_ ,” Erwin said.

“Yes,” Levi agreed, listening to the steady, strong beat of Erwin’s heart under his right ear. “I don’t mind it nearly as much when we’re together.”


	2. Respite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle of Waterloo. Erwin and Levi meet again.  
> Warnings for major character death and suicide.  
> But it's actually one of the fluffiest things I've ever written.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kind responses to this story. Despite all the angst, this chapter is really just me giving Erwin and Levi a brief bit of happiness for a change.
> 
> The carpenter's wife is the mother of Mary Anning, a real fossil hunter who lived in Lyme Regis at this time, and who made a lot of important discoveries. Hange would have got on well with her, I'm sure.

Erwin leapt clear as his dying horse fell, incensed by the mortal wounding of his loyal charger and outraged that such a feat had been accomplished by a mere infantryman armed with nothing more than a standard sabre and a bayonet. Still, that damned Frog certainly didn’t lack for courage, Erwin thought, cursing as his boots slipped on the flattened barley, sodden from the previous night’s thunderstorm - how many other soldiers would have held their ground like that when faced with a dragoon going full tilt? Regaining his balance, Erwin headed for the French soldier, intent on being the one to slay such an intrepid foe.

The Frenchman seemed equally keen to come to close quarters with him, dispatching another unhorsed cavalryman with an almost casual backhanded sweep of the sabre that was still purple with the blood of Erwin’s horse, before turning deliberately to face Erwin. It was hard to see much through the haze of natural mist and smoke from the cannon, but as he approached the French soldier Erwin could see that he was small - so small that Erwin wondered for a moment if he were only a boy? No - the way he fought spoke of hard-won experience in battle, and as he drew closer, Erwin could see that the infantryman’s blue tunic was dark with what must surely be English blood. They surged together, each determined on victory. Erwin looked into the eyes of man he had vowed to kill, and saw –

“Levi!”

But Erwin’s momentum was as unstoppable as a cavalry charge. Levi’s eyes widened as he flung his arm to the side to avoid wounding Erwin. Erwin attempted to do the same, lowering his blade, but he was too close, moving too fast.

“Erwin!” Levi gasped, as Erwin’s sabre pierced his thigh. “Shit!”

Levi staggered, and Erwin caught him, looking around desperately for a way out of the melee. “This way!” Erwin cried.

Levi nodded, and tried to run, but his leg gave way under him. He shook his head. “You’d better go. If they see you helping me –”

“What? They’ll execute me for treason? It would hardly be the first time. Come on.”

With a grunt, Erwin hoisted Levi over his left shoulder and headed back to the edge of the barley field where he remembered his horse had jumped a shallow ditch during the advance. Fortunately the battle seemed to be moving in the opposite direction, and when they reached the ditch they found they were sharing it with nothing but red- and blue-clad corpses.

Erwin set Levi down, as carefully as he could. “Is there any life where you look your weight?” he panted, as Levi ripped strips of linen from his shirt to bind the bloody gash in his left thigh.

“Huh. Is there any life where you _don’t_ look yours? You always were a fucking tank.”

“Hardly an appropriate metaphor here,” Erwin replied dryly, holding the makeshift bandage against the wound as Levi tied it in place.

Levi snorted. “Give it a hundred years. God, I hate Belgium! Nothing but rain, mud and blood.”

“Good beer,” Erwin said, smiling a little now that he was sure Levi wasn’t about to die from blood loss. “Excellent french-fries.”

“Yeah – _French-_ fries,” Levi pointed out.

“That’s a matter of debate. What’s wrong, Levi - still loyal to Bonaparte?”

“He’s a good general,” Levi shrugged. “But Wellington’s not bad, either, so I hear. I wonder which one’s going to have us killed?” He sighed. “We’re going to have to try to bluff it out again, aren’t we?”

“Yes. At least there’s no shortage of uniforms here. Pick a side.”

“I don’t care. I don’t have anything worth going back to – as usual. Grew up outside Paris. Shitty hamlet: small cottage, ten siblings, mud, and a couple of pigs in a good year. You?”

“I have a place in Dorset. Near Lyme Regis. Small house, garden, chickens. No pigs.”

“Wife?”

“No wife, either.”

“Thank fuck. All right – England it is.” Levi grabbed the front of Erwin’s tunic and pulled him down, intending to kiss him. Erwin gasped, but not with desire. Instantly Levi released him, frowning, worried. “Where are you hurt?”

“My arm, naturally. It was fine, but –”

“Let me see.” Levi unbuttoned Erwin’s tunic and worked the sleeve down his right arm as gently as he could manage.

“Musket ball,” Levi pronounced. “It’s still in the wound.”

“Damn. Thought so. Got it during the first charge. We’ll pad it, find you a suitable uniform, lie low here until dark, and then try to make it back to camp. If we’re lucky –”

Levi’s eyes were shadowed. “If we wait that long, you’ll lose it, again, won’t you?”

Erwin managed a grim smile. “I often do.

“I could try to get the ball out. But you know how that usually ends up.”

“Leave it alone. It’s stable. I’d rather lose the arm than lose this chance. Neither of us married, both of us young… If we can get back to England, we could have years together.”

Levi nodded, unwilling to hope too hard. “Let’s concentrate on getting out of this shithole before we start thinking about what colour roses we’re going to grow around the door.”

 

The sounds of the battle grew distant. Levi sat beside Erwin, on his left side. He stared morosely at the bloodstained cuff of the scarlet jacket he’d taken from the corpse of an English infantryman. Erwin leaned back against the muddy side of the ditch, the wound in his right bicep wadded and bound with the remains of Levi’s shirt, because, as Levi had pointed out, at least he could vouch for its relative cleanliness.

“How did you manage to keep on fighting like that with a musket ball in your arm?” Levi asked.

“I didn’t really feel it, at the time. I suppose it was the adrenaline. Even when that titan took my arm off, I hardly felt a thing, until I was on the way back to the wall.”

“So many battles,” Levi said. “And every time, we think we’re fighting for something that matters…”

“Sometimes it does matter,” Erwin said.

“Sometimes. Usually it doesn’t matter much. I don’t know, this time.” Levi shook his head. “Where do you find freedom, in this mess? _Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité_! I suppose it’s a good slogan, anyway. Before the terror, choosing a side must have seemed so easy. Even with us, with the titans, we were so sure we were doing the right thing - at first...”

“It’s almost never black and white,” Erwin agreed. “But when the enemy comes to your door, it gets simple fast: fight, or die.”

Levi looked at him, with a wan smile. “You sound like Jaeger.”

“Hm.”

“I wonder why we hardly ever meet any of the others? I can count on one hand – oh, sorry.”

“At least wait until it’s gone, Levi! Actually, I met Mike last time. After you died.”

Levi looked at him. “Mike? Ah. I’ve never seen Mike.”

“He married one of Rosalind’s distant cousins.” Erwin said. “We only met once, at the wedding.”

“He remembered?”

Erwin shook his head. “Only vaguely. He thought I looked familiar – kept staring, and asked a lot of questions. But he didn’t remember beyond a strong feeling of déjà vu. He didn’t remember in the way that we do.”

“I would like to see Mike again,” Levi said, a little wistfully. “I suppose I was shot?”

Erwin reached for Levi’s hand, raised it to his lips, and kissed his knuckles. “You were, yes. Right between the eyes, so the report said.”

“Ah. That explains why I don’t remember anything about it. Best way, in the circumstances.”

“I lost my arm the same day.”

“At Passchendaele?”  

“Yes.”

“Fucking _hate_ Belgium.”

Erwin smiled sadly. “I didn’t know for months – that you were dead. I was in hospital at first – it wasn’t just the arm, that time. When you didn’t reply to any of my letters, I knew, really. When I’d recovered, I went to the shop and it was boarded up. Someone in the street told me the owner had been killed. I walked to the Thames, and thought about jumping in. But – it could have been the last time.”

“Tch. You always say that.”

“I’d rather live, and have the memories, than nothing.”

“What happened to – your wife?”

“She was very good. She offered to look after me. But the injuries meant we’d definitely never have children, and she was still only twenty-seven. I divorced her, and she remarried. She had four boys!”

“And you? What about the rest of your life?”

“I became a military historian, and lived to eighty-nine.”

Levi grimaced. “Long lives are the worst – after. I’d have jumped in the river.”

Erwin nodded. “It was lonely. But I had interests, and friends. You became quite well known, posthumously. I once helped to curate an exhibition of your war photographs.”

“Really? I always thought I was a pretty terrible photographer.”

“No – you had a way of getting at the truth.”

“Hm. I was always good at that…”

Erwin’s grip on Levi’s hand tightened. “I made you do some terrible things.”

Levi turned his head sharply, and glared at him. “You never _made_ me do anything.”

“I made you join the Survey Corps.”

“But you could never have kept me there against my will. I could have disappeared any time I wanted to. You know that. We’ve had this conversation a hundred times. Shit, Erwin, if this is what living with you is going to be like, I’ll put that French uniform back on and throw myself on someone’s bayonet right now!”

“I’m sorry. You’re right. All that’s over. We both made our own choices.”

“Yeah, damn right we did.” Levi’s expression changed from irritation to something more resigned. “For better or worse.”

Erwin looked at Levi, half smiling, still holding his hand. “For richer, for poorer?”

“Hah! In sickness, and in health, ’til death do us part – again,” Levi finished.

“Wasn’t there something about _forsaking all others_?” Erwin asked.

“Goes without saying doesn’t it? We see each other, and any ‘others’ who happen to be around are forsaken already, aren’t they? Running doesn’t work - trying to stay with them never works out…”

“Looks as though you’re stuck with me,” Erwin said.

“Looks like it,” Levi agreed.

Silence fell between them for a while.

“Did you have to kill the horse?” Erwin asked, suddenly. “He was a good horse.”

“Sorry. I suppose I thought it was my duty to stop you at all costs. _Vive La France_ , and all that.”

“It’s not the first time, though, is it?”

Levi sighed. “No. No it’s not. And I really like horses. But there are things that keep repeating…”

“Yes. When I was a historian, I came up with a lot of different theories - looking for parallels between events, trying to find proof that we’re not the only ones living multiple lives like this – remembering, I mean. But I couldn’t find anything significant. Still – it’s certainly true that we seem to repeat some scenarios over and over, in ways appropriate to the situations we encounter. My arm – your leg…”

“Do you think there’s a point to it all?” Levi asked. “If we do something important in one of our lives - change something in the world - does that make a difference to anything at all in the long run?”

“I don’t know,” Erwin said. “For all we know we could have lived thousands of lives where we never met, so we never remembered anything. And all the others might be doing the same. Perhaps they all have someone who makes them remember.”

“Or perhaps their lives in the Survey Corps were just one of their other lives, and they had a different starting point?”

“Is that how you think of it?” Erwin asked – “as the starting point?”

“Yes.” Levi looked at Erwin curiously. “Don’t you? The Survey Corps – that life seems like the only _real_ one, to me. All the others don’t really count for anything until I meet you. But in that one, I was Levi before I met you. In every other life, I’m someone else. So many histories, so many names…”

“I feel the same,” said Erwin. “That was the real life – the Survey Corps. But there was that time in Greece – and the life where your leg was damaged when we were trying to take down that mammoth… How can the Survey Corps be a starting point, when it obviously wasn’t chronologically the first time we existed?”

Levi shrugged. “I don’t know. But it was real. And every time I meet you, it starts feeling like that again – when I remember who I _really_ am. That’s what I mean. Anyway, it depends what you mean by ‘chronologically’.”

Erwin laughed quietly. “You’re right. Who knows what that means, anymore? How many lives have we lived now? That we remember?”

“Two hundred and seventeen. Not counting this one,” Levi replied immediately.

Erwin nodded. “There seems to be no logic to when or where we come back, except that we always look similar, and we always seem to be somewhere in Europe.”

“And the names,” Levi said. “Don’t forget the names. I wasn’t keen on Earnest, last time, for you. Although I suppose, in terms of your character… Who were – _are_ , I suppose – who are you this time?”

“Edward Smyth - with a y,” Erwin said. “You?”

“Léon Revel.”  

“Léon Revel,” Erwin repeated. “I like that. So – who is Léon Revel?”

“Ah, he was just some idiot who died at Waterloo. It wasn’t an interesting life. I was a good soldier, I suppose.”

“You’re always a good soldier. Who will you be now? You could keep Leon, without the accent. Or Leo.”

“I don’t care. Whatever works. You must be more up-to-date with the British army than I am. Pick me a name, a rank, and a likely regiment no one in Dorset is going to know much about. Lyme Regis - I’ve never been there. What’s it like?”

“Nice,” said Erwin, helpfully. He shifted a little, and let go of Levi’s hand, to press the wadding more tightly against the wound in his right arm.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not much. I’ll survive it, don’t worry.”

“I hope so.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“I _want_ this life,” Levi said, suddenly, his voice fierce. “Together, in your house, in fucking _Lyme Regis_! God – it’s pathetic how much I want that!”

Erwin smiled. “I love you.”

Levi shook his head. “Why do you always have to say it?”

“Because I never could, the first time, until it was too late.”

“Sentimental bullshit.”

“Levi?”

Levi looked away, and found himself staring at the almost decapitated corpse of a dark-haired English officer. He thought of Gunther, and then of Erd, Oulo, Petra.

“Yeah – me too,” he managed, scowling.

*

Erwin was right – Lyme Regis _was_ nice. Levi pretended to complain about the state of Erwin’s small house, but, after two days’ through cleaning, he pronounced it “not bad”, and when Erwin persuaded him to walk to the bottom of the garden, through the orchard where the chickens roamed during the day, he admitted that the view over the bay was “pretty good”. Levi leaned on his stick, and watched the whitecaps in the bay beyond the protective wall of The Cobb.

“It’s spectacular during storms,” Erwin said, standing beside him. “How’s your leg?”

“Getting better.” Levi glanced at Erwin’s empty right sleeve, but there was nothing to be said about that.

“When you can walk farther, we’ll go down to the beaches, and look for fossils,” Erwin said. “It’s tempting to write a paper or something – I could be Darwin before Darwin! But attention is the last thing we want. Talking of which, the parson has invited us for dinner again.”

“He hopes the gallant Captain Smyth might take one of his daughters off his hands,” Levi said.

“I’ll drop hints about another war-wound,” Erwin told him. “That should put a stop to that.”

Levi shook his head. “Devious as ever,” he said. “But won’t people be suspicious about your lack of a housekeeper?”

“It’s such a small house, I think we can get away without any live-in servants,” Erwin replied. “I’ve already told people how you saved my life at Waterloo, and how you agreed to come and look after me when I lost my arm, in return for food and lodging. It’s a common enough story for injured soldiers to be in want of employment, after all.”

“I hope this works,” Levi said, looking back towards the house. “After that field hospital, and the damned infection – I hope we get some time here.”

 

For the sake of appearances, in case any of their few visitors chose to pry, Levi kept his clothes in the smaller of the two bedrooms, and ensured that the bed there was always made up. On days when Levi’s leg was irritating him, or when the stump of Erwin’s arm was giving him pain, they would sometimes sleep apart, but almost every night they shared Erwin’s large and comfortable four-poster bed. Levi often woke in the morning half smothered against Erwin’s chest, and, although he complained about it every time, neither of them was fooled in the slightest by his pretended exasperation.

Once Levi’s leg had healed sufficiently, Erwin showed him the path down to the beach, and they frequently walked there together. At first Levi walked with an obvious limp, but over the weeks and months his muscles repaired themselves and strengthened until he had little difficulty climbing over the rocks that littered the beach, especially after a storm had brought down more of the ever-crumbling cliff face. Such days brought out the fossil hunters, searching for new finds in the freshly fallen rocks, and Erwin often stopped to examine the shale, marl and mudstone, always interested in what the storms might have revealed. Levi usually feigned a lack of interest, muttering about ‘shitty rocks’ under his breath, but he still usually returned to Erwin’s side when he was called.

“Levi – look at this!”

Erwin held up a beautifully contoured ammonite, the size of his palm. Levi frowned at him. “You keep forgetting to call me Leo. People will hear.” He ran his fingers over the fossil, though. “It’s a good one.”

Erwin glanced along the beach. “There’s no one around.” He looked down at the perfect spiral of the ammonite in his hand. “This creature lived so long ago, I can hardly imagine it.”

“Yeah,” Levi agreed. “We’re quite young fossils, relatively speaking.”

Erwin laughed.

“Can I see?”

Levi and Erwin turned quickly, taken by surprise. Behind them, hammer in hand, stood a young person – possibly a girl, although the boy’s clothing made it difficult to be sure. Erwin held out the fossil.

“Ah – that’s a nice one, but I’m on the look out for something bigger. There are monsters in these cliffs, you know, and I’m going to find them! Do you think they were creatures that drowned in the flood?”

“I couldn’t say,” Erwin replied, mindful of the knowledge of the age.

“I’m going to find out!” the youth stated enthusiastically. “I’m going to find out everything about them!”

“You seem to find old rocks very exciting,” Levi said.

“How can I not, when there are so many secrets hiding inside them? But I must get on. The carpenter’s wife sometimes gives me money for the ones I find, and sells them on to visitors. Good day, Captain. Good day, Commander.”

The intrepid fossil hunter started to walk away, then stopped and looked back at them, with a puzzled expression. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I called you that. It’s Captain Smyth, isn’t it? And Mr. Reeve? From the white house up on the hill?”

“That’s right,” Erwin said. The girl – or boy – smiled, and gave a half wave, before turning to trudge further up the beach.

“Was that _Hange_?” Levi asked quietly.

“I think so.”

“Is that how Mike was, when you met him last time?”

“Yes - as if he could sense something, but not enough to bring back the memories.”

Levi shivered. “I hope we’re never like that, with each other. If I passed you in the street and just thought _he looks familiar_ …”

“I suppose we wouldn’t know about it,” Erwin said. “It would be just like all the lives where we never meet at all – assuming those exist.”

“We’ve been lucky,” Levi said.

“We have. This time, we’ve been very lucky.”

Erwin looked up and down the beach again. It was deserted, apart from Hange who was still visible in the distance, turned away from them, using the hammer to tap carefully at a large boulder. Erwin gave the ammonite to Levi, and put his hand against Levi’s cheek. Levi looked up at him, about to protest at the dangerously public display of intimacy, but Erwin silenced his objections with a kiss.

*

Their luck held for four and a half years. Then Erwin caught a cold during a particularly bitter winter, and, despite Levi’s vigilant nursing, the doctor diagnosed pneumonia a week later.

That evening, after the doctor’s departure, Levi sat on the bed, holding Erwin’s hand, listening to his laboured breathing. “In another time, with a dose of antibiotics –”

“Yes,” gasped Erwin. “In another time.”

Throughout the night, Levi watched Erwin, giving him water when he could drink it, and talking to him when he was awake. By dawn, he realised that their luck had run out.

“It’s selfish of me,” Levi said, stroking damp hair back from Erwin’s brow as he struggled for breath, “but I wish we’d had longer.”

The answering pressure of Erwin’s hand in Levi’s was pitifully weak.

“If you’d told me back when we were killing titans that what I really wanted was a quiet life in a house by the sea…” Levi said.

“I – will - see you again,” Erwin managed, but his eyes had already fallen shut.

“Yes,” Levi whispered. “Soon.”

When Erwin’s breathing stopped, Levi kissed his forehead, and left the bedroom without looking back.

 _What if this is the last time?_ Erwin’s voice asked in Levi’s mind.

“Then it was a good life to end it on,” Levi said aloud, as he made the necessary preparations.

He walked down to the end of the garden, his limp barely noticeable any longer, and looked out over Lyme Bay. The sea was a calm silvery grey in the cool light of early dawn, as Levi put Erwin’s immaculately maintained flintlock pistol against his head, and pulled the trigger. 


	3. Fleeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi wasn't prepared for this...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, a massive thank you to all of you who have commented and left kudos and read this fic. And another massive thank you to Aileine who drew the amazing art that led so many of you here from Tumblr.
> 
> This chapter is the one I was already working on before so many of you found this fic. Like Aileine's lovely art, it deals with age differences, but not in such a light-hearted way. I'm afraid it's very depressing. The next chapter, which is almost written and will be up soon, is much less bleak and features Levi as a highwayman, so if you want to skip this one and wait for Chapter Four, I quite understand! 
> 
> There are some spoilers for "A Choice With No Regrets" and the "Attack on Titan" manga, no. 56 in this chapter.

“Lee Ackerman,” the form tutor said, sounding exasperated.

“Yeah?”

“You haven’t returned your work experience form. If it’s not in by tomorrow you’ll be given a random placement from whatever’s left.”

Lee’s eyes were focussed on a sticky stain on the desk next to him. He thought about bacteria – what they’d studied in Biology about how quickly they multiplied. Someone should wipe that clean – someone –

“Lee! Are you listening?”

“Yes. Work experience form. Got it.”

But when he picked up Isabella from nursery and she told him that she’d had ‘a hurty tummy’ all day he feared the worst. He was right. She puked most of the night and he missed school the next day, letting her sleep off the sickness while he washed her sheets, and the pyjamas with the rabbits on, and Brown the bear, who had to be dried before Izzy woke up if Lee wanted to preempt a tantrum of titanic proportions. Lee held the bear by its ear and used the hairdryer on it, too worried about whether he had enough change for the electricity meter to be pleased by the fresh smell of detergent coming from the usually unhygienic toy.

 

“Not acceptable,” the head teacher was saying. Lee made himself sit straighter on the plastic chair, and tried hard not to yawn, but he couldn’t help it. After her long sleep during the day, Izzy had been awake most of the night, insisting on ‘sleeping’ in his bed, complaining that Brown smelled weird.

“ _Clean_ is the word you’re looking for, not _weird_ ,” Lee had told her as she’d shoved the toy against his nose. “Yeah – nice and clean.”

“I’m sorry I’m boring you.” The head’s sarcastic tone made Lee want to punch something. “Perhaps the fact that you’ve obviously been up all night playing _Grand Theft Auto,_ or another one of those awful video games, explains your appalling attendance record? If this keeps happening your mother will be receiving a visit from the attendance officer and –”

“No!” said Lee, quickly. “No – I’ll – get here.”

“You know, Lee, you could do well,” the head said, his voice heavy with the weariness of reciting the usual worn phrases. “All you need is a little application. You’re not stupid by any means. But boys like you –”

Lee looked at him sharply. “Like me?”

“Bright, but lazy. Well – you have work experience coming up in two weeks. Some pupils have even been offered jobs as a result of their placements. Boys like – uh – we often find that pupils who don’t fit – who don’t _settle_ into the school environment - do much better out in the world of real work. Try to make the most of it. Where are you going?”

Lee looked at his hands. “Don’t know. I – forgot to bring the form in.”

With an unnecessarily theatrical sigh, the head turned to his computer. Lee noticed the brown ring left by a coffee mug on the desk next to the photo of the head’s grinning kids. Disgusting.

“Laburnum Lodge!” the head exclaimed with a suspiciously satisfied expression on his narrow face. “They always take a lot of our pupils. Well, that should be a novel experience for a boy like you.”

“Why?” Lee asked, frowning. “What is it? Some kinda hotel? I wouldn’t mind cooking.”

“It’s a care home for the elderly,” the head replied.

“ _What_? No. I’m not changing some old fart’s plastic underwear or what the fu – uh – whatever! No way!”

“Of course not. You’ll be making tea, reading to the residents, cleaning the communal areas – that kind of thing. It won’t do you any harm to wield a duster!”

Lee glanced darkly at the coffee ring on the desk. The head followed the direction of his gaze and actually flushed. “Get back to class,” he said, rage simmering under his apparently calm tone. “If you miss another day, the attendance officer _will_ be visiting. Understood?”

“Yes,” said Lee, not daring to look the head in the face. He was too close to fury, and he couldn’t risk doing anything that might lead to someone visiting the house, asking questions about Izzy, wondering where their mother had gone…

“Yes, _what_?” the head asked.

Lee’s hands clenched, but he thought of Izzy being taken into care, and took a deep breath. “Yes, _Sir_ ,” he managed, his throat tight with anger.

“Fucking shitty _bastard_!” Lee muttered as soon as the door to the head’s office was closed behind him. “Fuck! All I need. A care home full of fucking old farts going on about the war or whatever.” He walked rapidly, his hands still fists at his sides, trying to calm himself. “Can’t be any worse than this shithole,” he told himself. “It’s only two weeks, anyway. If it’s just cleaning and making tea, it’ll be okay.”

As he approached the classroom door, the temptation to keep walking straight down the corridor and out of the school was very strong. But there was Izzy to think about – there was always Izzy to think about. Lee closed his eyes for a moment, then pushed open the door and went in.

 

“You’ve done very well with that.” The supervisor, Anya, gave Lee an encouraging smile. “I must admit, when you were late on Monday, I thought we might have trouble with you. But you’re very thorough – very professional. I don’t think the foyer has ever looked quite so sparkling!”

Lee pressed the button to retract the cable into the vacuum cleaner, and straightened, looking around with the brief sense of peaceful satisfaction order always gave him. “No point doing a half-assed job.”

“I couldn’t agree more! Not many sixteen-year-olds have your aptitude for these kinds of tasks. Do you care for an elderly relative at home, by any chance?”

Lee became instantly wary. He didn’t mind Anya – she treated him like a human being, at least, and praised his work more than anyone at school had ever done – but she was still the kind of person who would probably feel duty-bound to interfere if she knew the truth.

“Got a three-year-old sister,” he said. “I look after her sometimes – when Mum’s at work.”

“You must be a great help to your mother.”

Lee couldn’t bring himself to say anything to that, so he only shrugged and began to wheel the vacuum cleaner towards the cupboard.

“Oh, Lee, would you mind doing the last room on Rose corridor? Number thirteen? It shouldn’t take much cleaning – it’s been empty since Mrs. Harrison passed away. If you could just dust, and run the vacuum over before you go home?”

“’Kay.” Lee changed course, pulling the machine through the double doors into Rose corridor. The plastic wheels rumbled quietly on the dusky pink carpet.

Number thirteen wasn’t a bad room, Lee thought, as he went back to the cleaning cupboard for dusters, polish, bleach, bathroom cleaner, vinegar-based window cleaner, cloths and sponges. The bathroom wasn’t too small, the main room was spacious, the long windows looked over the courtyard garden and let in plenty of light. Even so, the thought of spending your last years cooped up in one room made Lee shudder. As far as he could tell, the residents at the lodge were well cared for, and there were plenty of activities laid on for those who wanted to participate, but even so…

 _Never getting old_ , Lee thought as he returned to the room and flung open the windows to let in the fresh air before he started dusting. Serving tea and biscuits in the communal lounge that morning had been so fucking depressing. That old woman – Ada, Ava, or something? - her voice had been almost a whisper, and after a couple of attempts at asking her to repeat her name Lee had felt awkward and stopped - but the way her hands had shaken trying to balance a tea cup – the horrible fragility of paper-thin skin stretched over yellow swollen knuckles, and blue, knotted veins –

Ugh. Dealing with Izzy, even when she was sick, wasn’t the same. She would grow out of her body’s failings – the occasional bed-wetting, the lack of coordination, the snotty colds and the habit of tripping over her own feet. These old people though – they were going the other way. How could they stand it?

But then, what choice did they have?

Levi distracted himself by cleaning as thoroughly as possible, just as he sometimes did at home when he wanted to forget about the situation he’d been left in – dumped in – by that _bitch_ who called herself –

_Calm down. Smear on that bottom pane – got it. And I bet there’re cobwebs behind the bookcase, because nobody ever – Yeah. Knew there would be. Bastard spiders…_

“Lee?” Anya put her head around the door, looking faintly anxious. “Lee, it’s almost six. I thought you’d gone home!”

Lee looked up. “Six? Shit – Izzy! I have to go, but I – there’s the shower curtain – a patch of mold on the shower curtain –”

“Lee – it’s okay. I’ll have the curtain changed, if we can’t get it off. You didn’t need to worry about that. Look at this room – it’s spotless! No – don’t worry about the cleaning things – I’ll put them away. You get off home – you’re already an hour over time.”

 

When Lee reached the nursery, the lights were out in the main classroom. Izzy was sitting on a low table in reception swinging her legs, while one of the young assistant teachers read her a story.

“You forgot me!” Izzy accused as Lee mumbled apologies and thanks to the teacher.

“I’m sorry, Iz. It’s this work experience place – I was cleaning and I forgot the time, not you. I’d never forget you.”

“Le-vi forgot me!” Izzy sang to the teacher, as Lee buttoned up her coat.

Lee frowned slightly. “Lee! Why do you keep calling me Levi? Is there a Levi in your class, here?”

“No,” the teacher replied, “We have a Leo, but no Levi.”

“What’s for dinner?” Izzy asked, as Lee took her hand and led her out of the building.

Lee didn’t tell her that they were running low on food. “I dunno. Fish fingers? I think there’re fish fingers in the freezer.”

“I don’t like fish fingers!”

“You liked them on Saturday.”

“I don’t like them _now_ , because they’re made of fishes.”

“Okay. No fish fingers. I think we have some eggs.”

“Scambled or dippy?”

“However you like.”

“Scambled, ’cause Molly said dippy looks like egg blood.”

Mentally, Lee crossed soft-boiled eggs off the already limited menu for a while.

“ _Egg blood_ , Levi!” Izzy exclaimed with gruesome relish.

“ _Lee_ ,” sighed Lee, wearily.

 

The next morning Lee kept half an eye on Izzy eating her supermarket-knockoff Cheerios equivalent (more sugar, but a third of the price), while he tried to compose a text he thought might actually make his mother take notice. Avoiding the temptation to say what he really felt, he settled on: _Need food r u coming back? L_.

They were running late, but Lee couldn’t leave the house without washing the breakfast things, wiping the table clean and putting the cereal back in its proper position on the counter. Then he made sure Izzy brushed her teeth for two minutes while doing his own, ran his fingers through his hair, and helped Izzy put her coat on. By the time he’d dropped her off at nursery he knew he was going to be late to his work placement. If only Iz hadn’t kept him up half the night with another one of those weird dreams about the ‘giants with big teeth’! Izzy’s bad dreams worried Lee, not so much because of what she dreamed, but because she always woke up sobbing, accusing him of leaving her. Was it normal for little kids to have such intense nightmares? He wondered if he dared take the risk of asking Anya about it – she had kids, and would probably be sympathetic, but he would have to be careful not to give away the fact that he was the one looking after Izzy, rather than their mother.

Lee ran most of the way, and managed to arrive only ten minutes late. There was no one in the foyer when he arrived, so he went to the cleaning cupboard and got out a duster and polish, making a start on the reception desk, trying to look as though he’d been busy for some time.

Whether she fell for it or not, Lee wasn’t sure, but Anya only smiled when she saw him. “Lee – I wanted to ask you something. We have a new resident on Rose corridor – the room you cleaned so beautifully yesterday. He’s recovering from a nasty fall. He’s just out of hospital, and he’ll be in bed for some time. Would you mind taking him cups of tea when he wants them?”

“Sure,” Lee replied.

“I’m asking you, because you seem sensible. He only has one arm. Will you be okay with that?”

“Fine,” said Lee.

“He’s awake now, if you want to go and introduce yourself. He’s a Mr. Smith.”

 

Lee put away the duster and the polish, and made his way along the Rose corridor, to the number thirteen, wondering whether Mr. Smith had been born with one arm, or lost it in an accident. He knocked on the door, and heard a surprisingly strong voice call, “Come in!”

Lee opened the door, and froze in the doorway. There was a long moment of appalled silence, and then the old man in the bed gave a fragile smile. “Levi.”

“No,” Levi said, his voice catching, harsh in his throat. “Fuck, no. I – can’t.”

“Then, perhaps, this time, you _should_ run,” Erwin sighed.

Levi shut the door behind him, and walked over to the bed, angrily blinking away unshed tears. “Don’t be stupid. When I ran it was because I thought it might do some good. This is – it’s just – unexpected. I’ve never seen you old.”

“I’ve never been quite this old. Not that I remember, anyway.”

Levi slumped in the chair beside the bed, and experienced a sudden vivid memory of sitting beside Erwin in a room surprisingly similar to this one, waiting for him to come round after losing his arm to a titan. The feeling of near despair that had threatened to overwhelm him then came back to him for a moment; but he’d rejected it then, in favour of necessary action, and he pushed it away now. Erwin was alive.

“There will be other lives,” Erwin said.

“Unless this is the last time.”

“I’m the one who always says that.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” Levi glanced sideways at Erwin, and away.

“That bad?” Erwin asked, smiling. “You can’t even look at me?”

Levi wasn’t fooled by the smile. “It’s just – weird. How old are you, anyway?”

“Ninety-two, last October. You?”

“Sixteen last Christmas.”

“It’s – quite a gap, seventy-six years. A lifetime.”

“Lot longer than most of my lifetimes.”

“How long did you live, last time?”

Levi laughed harshly. “About ten minutes longer than you. It was a good life.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t stay there without you.”

“I’m here, now. Even like this – isn’t that better than nothing?”

“Yes!” Levi looked at Erwin properly, then. “God – yes.”

The morning sunlight streamed through the immaculately clean windows, merciless in its forensic glare. Erwin’s skin was mottled with age spots and stretched thin over his temples. His cheeks were concave, beneath still-sharp cheekbones. The line of his jaw had softened, and his hair was white, although a surprising amount of it remained.

“Your ears got bigger,” Levi said after a while. “And your nose.” He smiled, adjusting to this new reality. “Your eyebrows are fucking ridiculous! Don’t you have some disgusting-old-man eyebrow trimmer, or something?”

“I’ll look into getting one immediately.”

Levi grew serious again. “Your eyes are the same, Erwin. You still look like you.”

“I _am_ still me,” Erwin said. “You don’t have to be afraid of getting old, Levi.”

“I’m not! If we could grow old together… But that never seems to happen, does it?”

“Not so far.”

Levi reached for Erwin’s hand and took it in his own. Levi’s hand looked small, pale and very smooth next to Erwin’s, which was freckled and covered in wrinkled skin that reminded Levi of the patterns the retreating tide used to leave in the sand, below the cliffs at Lyme Regis.

Erwin closed his eyes. “People stop touching you, when you’re old,” he said. “It’s as if they think it’s catching.”

“As if they think what’s catching?” Levi asked. “Old age?”

“Hm. Or mortality.”

Levi raised Erwin’s hand to his lips and kissed his fingers. “Don’t they realize they’re born with it?”

Erwin smiled. “Does anyone really believe it though – until the last moment? Even when you see a dozen soldiers die in front of you in one battle, you never know what it will be like when it’s your turn.” He opened his eyes again, and looked at Levi intently. “I think I missed you my whole life, without knowing it.”

“You get more sentimental every time,” Levi replied, looking away.

“Well – this time, you won’t have to put up with it for too long,” Erwin said.

Levi kept hold of Erwin’s hand. “Don’t talk about that. Tell me about this life. No wedding ring?”

“I was married. Agnes divorced me when she found out about my affair. There’s a picture, in my wallet. On the table, there.”

Levi went to the table, and opened the worn leather wallet, returning to the chair at Erwin’s side. He stared at the old black and white photograph he found inside the wallet. “This isn’t your wife. He – he looks like –”

“Yes - he looked a lot like you. His name was Christophe. The affair… That’s partly what I meant, about missing you. At the time I couldn’t understand why I felt such an instant attraction. It was so strong – I was willing to go against all my principles to be with him.”

“Oh! Are you still –”

“He died. Twenty years ago. We were together, on and off. It wasn’t an easy relationship. He – well, now I see it was difficult because he wasn’t you.”

“Huh. So we fuck up people’s lives even when we’re not together. Does that mean there’s no one, now?”

“Agnes and I were together for a long time, before Christophe. We adopted a boy – Richard. He visits occasionally, but he was angry about the divorce. I can’t blame him for that.”

“Wonder why neither of us ever seem to have kids of our own?”

“I don’t know. I think we might, in the lives we don’t remember. Perhaps it’s the price of remembering – the way it works.” Erwin shook his head. “In every life I keep trying to figure out the rules, but there are so many variables… I didn’t meet anyone from the first life, this time. Not that I recognized, anyway.”

Levi froze.

“What’s wrong?” Erwin asked.

“I’ve just realized,” Levi said, looking at Erwin, shocked – “my kid sister, in this life, is Isabel! _My_ Isabel, I mean. From the first time.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. She’s even called Isabella. Izzy. And – she doesn’t remember – not really – but she calls me Levi sometimes, and she has nightmares. About ‘giants with big teeth’. Fuck. She wakes up screaming for me, saying I left her alone… Erwin, I killed her, and – what if every time she’s reborn, part of her remembers that?”

“You didn’t kill her. A titan killed her.”

“It was my fault!”

“Or you could say it was _my_ fault. If it hadn’t been for me, you wouldn’t even have been on that mission. As far as I can tell, there’s nothing we can do to change the past; nothing we can do about the people we’ve hurt.”

“But there _is_ something I can do, this time! I can look after her. I can make damn sure she has a life worth living. Our mother – I thought I hated her, but now… I guess she couldn’t cope with us. It’s just – how she is. Goes from man to man. Izzy’s my half sister. She looks just like Isabel. Same red hair, same smile – same everything. And now I remember – now I’m mentally an adult - I can take care of her. I can get a job – I can probably even pass my exams now – all the shit I remember!”

Erwin smiled. “You’re so young! Everything ahead of you.”

Levi frowned. “Yeah – but – this means I’m stuck here, doesn’t it? When you –”

“When I die.”

“Yeah. I can’t kill myself this time, and follow you. Not until Izzy’s grown up. She needs me. I can’t let her down again.”

“Well – maybe, if there’s a reason for any of this, that’s it. Maybe we do sometimes get the chance to put things right, after all?”

“I hope so. Hope I don’t fuck up again. I wish –”

“What do you wish?”

“I wish we could go back to the first time, remembering, and not make the same mistakes. But it’s – every time, always a different life.”

“So far.”

“Yeah.” Silence fell between them, until the loud ticking of a small carriage clock on the bookcase brought Levi back to their present reality. “Shit. I’m only supposed to be saying hi, and asking if you want a cup of tea!”

“Hello, and yes, I’d love one.”

“Right. I’d better –” Levi got to his feet and took a step towards the door, then he turned back, leaned over the bed, and kissed Erwin once, gently, on the lips.

“Levi!” Erwin exclaimed. “You don’t need to –”

“I love you,” Levi said.

“I’m the one who always says that.”

“Yeah, well.” Levi did his best to smile. “You still like your tea disgustingly sweet?”

“Might as well,” Erwin replied. “What’s too much sugar going to do – kill me?”

“Not funny, old man.” Levi hesitated, his hand on the door handle, looking back at Erwin, so changed, and yet, essentially, the same.

“Tea?” prompted Erwin.

Levi nodded, and closed the door softly behind him. Erwin fell back against the pillows, his muscles aching from the effort of hiding his body’s frailty from Levi. He was still bruised from the fall that had broken his hip, and although the surgeons had done a good job of patching him up, he knew that recovery would take much longer than it had done in the past. But it was so good to see Levi again!

Erwin hadn’t had time to ask about Levi’s current life, but it seemed that, as so often seemed to be the case, his circumstances were far from ideal, supporting a half sister, with an absent mother, and apparently no father on the scene. Well, Erwin had money – he would change his will – leave Levi enough to make a life for himself, without depriving Richard. Levi would finally be able to look after Isabel as he’d tried so hard to do the first time.

 _I should do it soon_ , thought Erwin, closing his eyes. _At my age… Ah, Levi. Seeing you again…_

 

Levi stirred three teaspoons of sugar into Erwin’s tea, his hand shaking a little. He had one and a half weeks of work experience to go, but perhaps after that he would be able to get a job at the home? If no paid position was available, he could always volunteer. Eventually a job would come up – these places always had a high turnover of staff didn’t they? – and then he would be able to see Erwin every day.

He took a custard cream and a ginger biscuit out of the tin, and placed them on the saucer alongside the teaspoon, knowing Erwin’s secret liking for sweet things. Carefully, he carried the tea back to Erwin’s room and pushed open the door without knocking.

“Didn’t know which one you’d like, so I brought both,” he said, taking a step inside the room. “Hey – are you asleep? Tch, you really are an old man this time aren’t you… - Erwin? Erwin!”

 

“It happens,” Anya told the boy. “Lee, it just happens sometimes. He’d had a major operation, and the move from the hospital – it’s sometimes just too much for someone that old. I’m sorry you found him like that, it must have been a terrible shock for you.”

Levi pulled away from her grip on his shoulder. “I dropped the teacup,” he said. “When I - It’s – all over the carpet. I’ll clean it up –”

“It’s all right, Lee.”

“I’d – only just found him –”

“I know. It really doesn’t matter about the carpet. Here, drink this – sugar is good for shock. I have to make a few arrangements, and then I’ll drive you home.”

Levi sat on the plastic chair in the supervisor’s office, staring, through tears he could no longer hold back, at the cup of tea Anya had made for him, and the two custard creams on the saucer.


	4. Travellers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi is a highwayman. Erwin is a magistrate. Nile hates thieves, and he has a gun. Oops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised a happier chapter, so here's a historical romance inspired by watching endless TV adaptations of Jane Austen novels, although set slightly earlier, and with apologies for the attempt at C18th language. Levi is a highwayman - he has a reason to wear a cravat! If that doesn't sound like your cup of tea, please ignore this chapter - angst will resume shortly. 
> 
> Eventually in this fic there will be happy lives (at least one) in which we follow Erwin and Levi all the way to the end, but this isn't one of them. "Random"'s kind review included this thought-provoking Orson Welles quotation: "If you want a happy ending, that depends, of course, on where you stop your story.” This story ends happily, as far as it goes.
> 
> Thank you so much for all the encouraging and uplifting kudos and reviews. I have very kind readers.

“It’s a foul night for it,” Nathaniel Dawkins grumbled, glancing across at Edmund who rode beside him along the muddy turnpike, looking as composed as ever despite the rain driving into his face and the oppressive weight of his sodden woollen travelling cloak.

“Forgive me, Nate,” Edmund replied with his usual easy smile. “Perhaps we should have stayed at the _Red Lion_ as you suggested, but we’re barely five miles of good road from home, and I have much to do before the next assizes. A local man – his father worked for mine - is charged with theft for the second time, and I would not see him hang for the world. If I can persuade the claimant to drop the charge -”

“Your compassion does you credit, but a repeated offence does not suggest a character capable of reformation,” Nathaniel stated. “My opinion of the punishment deserved by such villains is well known to you, although I am aware that _yours_ is very different. You are a good magistrate, Edmund – few men would take such pains to uphold their idea of justice as you do, but, pardon me, I would not rehearse these arguments again. You know my reasons.”

Edmund’s smile faded. “I’m sorry to have caused you pain, Nate. This is hardly the place for such a debate, in any case. I hope we shall come to Highfield before it is full dark. This overcast weather makes it seem almost night at three o’clock! You must stay with me tonight – it would be folly to continue your journey in such a storm.”

“Indeed, I think it will be dark by four. Thank you – I will stay at Highfield tonight, and return home tomorrow. My mother is giving a Christmas party on Friday. My aunt, my cousin Charlotte, and Charlotte’s friend Maria will be arriving from town tomorrow, to stay a month with us. You must come to the party, Edmund. My cousin is a very pretty girl, and to judge from all I have heard, the same is true of her friend. Now that your work on the house is complete, you have time to look about you for a wife.”

“In truth, I had not thought –”

Edmund reined in his horse suddenly, peering through the downpour to look along the road, which descended rather sharply ahead of them into a small wood.

Nathaniel followed the direction of Erwin’s gaze, dashing raindrops from the brim of his hat to see more clearly. “Is that the stage, mired in mud?” he asked. "We may need to assist -”

Edmund held up a warning hand. “Something’s wrong. The horseman beside the coach – I think –”

“A highwayman by god! Damn the cur!” Nathaniel spurred his horse towards the coach before Edmund could prevent him, drawing his pistol from beneath his cloak. Edmund followed, fearful for his friend, but also afraid of what he might do.

As Edmund’s experience of such wretches led him to expect, the highwayman did not conform to the fine figure of popular ballads. As they approached the coach Edmund and Nathaniel saw that the robber was a small man with an unremarkable tricorn hat pulled low on his brows and a scarf covering the lower part of his face. He was clad in a tattered cloak and sitting astride a nag that looked fit for the knacker’s yard. He held a pistol, however, and his posture was upright and determined. The unfortunate coachman stood beside his vehicle, in the process of handing a bag to the thief.

“Stop, you bastard!” Nathaniel shouted.

The highwayman looked around and saw Nathaniel and Edmund riding towards him. He grabbed the bag from the coachman and spurred his horse along the road in the opposite direction. As soon as Edmund and Nathaniel had passed the coach, Nathaniel levelled his pistol and took aim at the retreating thief.

“Nate, no!” Edmund cried.

“I’m a good shot. Even in this light, I’m certain I can bring him down!”

“That is no justice! We must apprehend him without bloodshed if we can.”

“You think he would hesitate to shoot us? He will not escape me! I will not allow it!”

“Nate -”

The highwayman’s horse was faster than it looked. The man rode well, never so much as glancing behind him, focussed entirely on escape.

“No!” Nathaniel cried. “No! He’s getting away!”

“Nate – don’t –”

The sound of the shot sent rooks scattering into the leaden sky above the dripping trees, cawing harshly. The highwayman’s horse galloped on a few yards, and then stumbled and fell sideways into a ditch at the side of the road, throwing the man into the mud.

“Did I kill him?” Nathaniel asked.

“I think you killed his horse. Yes – there goes the thief – into the trees!”

The robber staggered into the shelter of the wood, his right leg dragging awkwardly as he tried to run.

Edmund and Nathaniel reached the fallen horse. Edmund dismounted, and examined the beast, while Nate reloaded his pistol.

“Dead,” Edmund pronounced. “I think you hit the poor animal’s lung, through its back. It’s lucky you didn’t kill the man.”

“I was aiming for the man,” Nathaniel replied angrily. “The horse was innocent; the man is guilty!”

“Not of the crime for which you would see him punished,” Edmund said gently. “Nate, as a magistrate, and as your friend, I beg you - stay with the horses. Your feelings in this case mar your judgement. I’ll find our man. The undergrowth is too thick to ride through – I’ll go on foot.”

Nathaniel thought about protesting, but his willingness to kill the highwayman in the heat of the moment had apparently given him pause, and he seemed to accept the wisdom of Edmund’s plan. “He’s armed. Be careful, Edmund.”

“I shall.” Drawing his own pistol, Edmund jumped over the shallow ditch beside the road, and followed the trail of broken twigs and brambles into the wood. Beneath the trees the dull light was even dimmer that it had been on the road, but Edmund was an experienced huntsman, and picked up the robber’s trail soon enough.

The wood was quiet but for the pattering of the rain on wet leaves. Edmund trod carefully, moving as silently as a big man in soaked clothing could manage. The highwayman had managed to run further than Edmund had expected, but he’d had to drag his injured leg, and the trail was plain enough for someone who knew what to look for. It wasn’t long before Edmund reached a small clearing with a stand of oaks and dense bramble bushes on the other side. Sensing that he was being watched, Edmund stood still and listened. At first the only sound was the quiet drip of raindrops, but then Edmund heard a soft gasp: someone trying to suppress pain.

“I know you’re there,” he said calmly. “I have a pistol, but I don’t want to use it. Come out, and you won’t be harmed.”

“I have a pistol too,” a low voice replied. “A pistol – and a clear shot. Leave by the way you came, and _you_ won’t be harmed.”

“I’ve heard of robberies on this road,” Edmund said, “but not murder, in recent times. If you kill me, you’ll hang for certain. If you surrender, I’ll speak for you at your trial.”

“What – and plead for them to throw me in gaol? I’d as soon hang.”

Edmund moved slowly across the clearing towards the sound of the robber’s voice. “You’re wounded. You need help.”

“No the sort of help you and your friend want to give me. Stay back!”

“My friend has his reasons for hating criminals of your kind – but I don’t think you’re a murderer.”

“Are you willing to wager your life on that? I’m warning you, stay back…”

Edmund walked resolutely towards the sound of the voice. He pushed aside a tangle of briars, thorns catching at his cloak, and saw the highwayman crouched against the trunk of an oak tree, his pistol in his hand, his eyes wide with desperation – or, no, with sudden recognition – oh -

“Levi!”

“Erwin! God – Erwin –”

“Levi -” Erwin lunged forward, tugging against the brambles that pulled at his cloak. Levi struggled to stand, balancing his weight on his left foot, and almost literally fell into Erwin’s arms. Holding each other, Erwin’s strong arms supporting Levi, Levi’s head against Erwin’s chest, they stood together for a moment that was pure peace, thinking of nothing, under the quiet rain.

Then Erwin became aware of the stock of Levi’s pistol digging into his shoulder. He laughed softly. “Careful you don’t shoot me by mistake, Levi.”

Levi looked up at him. “It’s not loaded. Whatever else I’ve done, I haven’t killed anyone. Not in this life.”

“Nathaniel – my friend – the one who tried to shoot you –”

“Did he kill my horse?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

“Ah.” Levi shook his head sadly. “She was a good horse.”

“Your Black Bess?”

“Huh. I was no Turpin. But then, most likely, neither was he.”

“No. Poverty and crime are only ever glamorous in fiction. Levi – Nathaniel is Nile.”

“Again! It’s weird – so many lives without meeting anyone, and now – Hange, Isabel, and Nile…”

“And I met Mike, before that. But I suppose, if these lives are random, there will be coincidences like this. Clusters of similar events… you’d expect to find those in a set of random circumstances.” Erwin frowned, thinking. Levi laughed softly. “You don’t change much. Always trying to work everything out. Fuck, Erwin, it’s good to see you. I suppose there’s a catch of some kind? Are you married again?”

“No.”

“And you still have your arm…”

“Yes, but I broke it badly in a hunting accident when I was sixteen. If we’re lucky, perhaps this time I’ll keep it. How’s your leg?”

“Hurts like hell, but I don’t think it’s broken – just twisted in the fall from the horse. Funny though – it’s usually the left. Do you think this time we might get –”

“ _Edmund!_ ” Nathaniel’s voice was strained with fury, and far too close. Erwin and Levi turned to face him. He walked forwards across the clearing, his pistol trained on Levi. “Both of you – put your pistols on the ground, and your hands up above your heads.”

“Nate – I asked you to stay with the horses,” Erwin said, obeying Nathaniel’s order and nodding to Levi to do the same, fighting to keep his voice calm. “I have apprehended the villain, as you see. All is well.”

Nathaniel shook his head. “What I see – What I _see_ , Edmund, is a magistrate – my _friend_ – in league with a criminal _dog_ of the kind that killed Lucy –”

“Not in league, Nate! You don’t understand. I’ll explain everything – but put down your pistol, please. This man hasn’t killed anyone.”

“You – embraced him. You _laughed_! You know him, Edmund. What other conclusion can I draw? You talk about justice – counsel me against revenge – and all the while you conspire with filth like this? Was all your father’s fortune not enough for you? Corruption – vice – I thought you stood against those things!”

Nathaniel’s aim wavered between Erwin and Levi, but he held the pistol level, his finger poised over the trigger.

“I believe in _justice_ , Nate,” Erwin said. “What happened to your sister was terrible – but it has nothing to do with this man, or with me. I will explain, but please – take your finger off the trigger before –”

“No!” Nathaniel cried. “No – I begged you to help me find the footpad who killed Lucy and you told me it was no use!”

“After months of searching. We had no description, no reliable witnesses –”

“And you make excuses for these bastards! You plead their poverty – their ignorance – You try to save them from the noose – but who tried to save Lucy?” Nathaniel met Levi’s steady gaze. “She was stabbed to death in the street for three crowns and a lace handkerchief. What did you take today, dog? What were you prepared to kill for?”

“I wasn’t going to kill anyone. My pistol wasn’t loaded.”

“Liar! Show me what you stole!”

Levi threw back his worn cloak and took a small bag of rough sackcloth from the pocket of his coat. Nathaniel grabbed it, his hand shaking, and tipped out the contents. Among assorted small objects, a silver crown fell through the air, glinting dully in the low light. Nathaniel looked at Levi and raised his pistol. Erwin shouted, “Nile - No!”

Levi slammed his hand down on top of the barrel of the pistol, forcing the weapon downwards.

Erwin heard the shot, watched Nile’s face go slack with a kind of dazed resignation as he dropped the pistol, saw Levi falling –

“Levi!” Erwin couldn’t move fast enough to catch –

“I didn’t mean –” Nile was saying. Erwin pushed him out of the way. “Levi!”

“Shit,” Levi whispered, pressing his hands to the bloody wound in his thigh. “Shit – should’ve known. Always - the left.”

Erwin stripped off his cravat, wadded it tightly and pressed it down onto the wound. “Nile – give me your cravat, too,” he ordered. Nathaniel moved to obey, asking, “Edmund – what did you call me?”

Erwin ignored him, using the white linen as a bandage to secure the wadding, but blood was already seeping through. “We have to get him flat, and raise the leg,” Erwin said. Levi was pulling at the lace cravat around his own neck. Erwin helped him take it off. “Use it as a tourniquet,” Levi said, “For all the good it’ll do. Damn fancy shit. Trying to look like a fucking highwayman!” He managed a breathless laugh. “Guess you were always going to shoot one of us one day, Nile.”

“Why –” Nathaniel began, but Erwin cut him off.

“Later. Nate – ride back to the stage if it’s still there. If they’re free of the mud, get them to come here. If I can stop the bleeding, I’ll get him to the road.”

Nathaniel nodded. “Edmund – I didn’t intend –”

“Go!”

Erwin tied the lace cravat as tightly as he could around Levi’s thigh above the wound. He leaned over Levi, elevating the wounded leg by propping Levi’s ankle on his own shoulder. Levi smiled faintly. “Any excuse, Erwin.”

“God, Levi… How does it feel?”

“I’ve survived worse. As long as we can get the bleeding under control I’ll get through it. Close range though – it’s not going to be pretty.”

“No. The ball’s gone right through the muscle, in and out on the outside of your thigh. At least it missed the bone.”

Levi grimaced. “I’ve been lucky then. Hate digging around in wounds. What is it with Nile and guns?”

“He doesn’t know he was Nile. I think we’ve thoroughly confused him.”

“Yeah – ‘embracing’, and getting his name wrong... Shit – that was rough, though - about his sister.”

“It was. She was only seventeen.”

“Huh. Always hard when they’re young…”

“Hard at any age…” Erwin looked down into Levi’s eyes. “Talking of being young, what happened last time, after I died?”

After you died? Ah. After you died, time just… Well, you know how slowly -”

“How long did you last?”

“I couldn’t leave Izzy – not until I knew she was going to be all right. She married – had kids… Some things are important enough to stay for.”

“I almost never leave anyway,” Erwin said.

“I know. I don’t know how you stand it. In the end I stuck it out until I was nearly fifty. I took up climbing. It reminded me of the first life – and I always thought it might be a good way out. One day, up in the French Alps, I just – let go.”

“I meant to leave you money,” Erwin said. “I remember thinking about it, just before I died. I thought I could help you with Isabel, but -”

“It didn’t matter. Remembering was enough. Seeing you again. I got a job and finished school. Izzy never really remembered the first life, not consciously, but she had those dreams about titans until she hit puberty. She kept calling me Levi, so in the end I changed my name. Changed it _back_ , I suppose. It wasn’t a bad life, but – well, you know. There’s never anyone else, is there? After you died…”

“You went to get me some tea…”

“Yeah. Yeah, I came back and – you’d gone. I always wondered afterwards - was it the shock of seeing me that killed you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it was too much for my heart. But I was happy, Levi. Ninety-two years, and that moment was the only one that really mattered in the end. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay.”

“Tch. Not as though you had a choice.” Levi sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. “It was another life. We’re here, now. How does this wound look to you? I think the bleeding’s slowing.”

Erwin took Levi’s ankle in his right hand, and moved it off his shoulder carefully, easing the damaged leg down towards the ground. He knelt at Levi’s side, keeping the leg slightly elevated, propped over his thighs. “It’s stopped bleeding through the bandages, thank god,” Erwin said.

Levi gazed at him, half smiling. “We should be doctors,” he said. “We’ve had enough experience, between your arm and my leg.”

“Maybe in some life we will be.” Erwin couldn’t bend down to kiss Levi without disturbing his injured leg, but he brushed the dark, rain-damp hair out of Levi’s eyes. Levi caught his hand, and kissed his fingers. “ _You_ will be. You’re always the responsible one.”

“Not always,” Erwin said.

“Almost always. How old are you, this time?”

“Twenty-four.”

“Huh. I’m thirty. Older than you, for a change. And I’m still a pathetic excuse for a thief, while you’re a magistrate, and fuck knows what else. I bet you have some big-ass mansion or something – those gardens with shitty little hedges all laid out in stupid patterns – horses, and dogs… I bet you have an orangery, don’t you? I can just see you with a fucking orangery.”

“I don’t have an orangery. Where did you even –?”

“That botanist on the _Andromeda_. Always going on about his orangery…”

“I don’t have an orangery. Although it’s not a bad idea…” Erwin’s smile faded as he peered across the clearing and realised that he could hardly make out the trees on the other side. “Levi, it’s getting dark. Whether Nile brings the coach or not, we need to get to the road. I’m going to carry you. We have to try to keep your leg as still as we can.”

“All right. I can try to stand –”

“No. I’ll lift you. Hold on to me, and try to keep still.”

“Wait,” Levi said. “The things I stole… I’ve got you into enough shit with Nile as it is. He might be a bit more forgiving if everyone gets their possessions back.”

Erwin picked up the scattered objects; loose coins, a silk purse, a coral necklace, two silver snuff boxes and a ring set with dark stones, their colour impossible to make out in the fading light. “Quite a haul,” Erwin said, tipping the items back into the bag.

“Enough to keep us fed for a while.”

“Us?” Erwin asked.

“No one from before. A – gang, I suppose you’d call it. If we can work this out, I’d like to help them.”

Erwin smiled. “More of your waifs and strays? And you call _me_ responsible, as though it’s some kind of slur! We’ll find a way to help them, Levi. But your leg needs attention first.” Erwin slid one arm under Levi’s knees, and the other around his back. Levi put his left arm around Erwin’s shoulders and got a firm grip on the back of his cloak. Erwin lifted Levi, holding him close against his chest, getting first to his knees, then his feet, moving as smoothly as possible. Both men tensed as fresh blood seeped through the improvised bandage. “It’s all right,” Levi said, after a breathless moment. “It’s not much.”

Erwin carried Levi through the wood, back towards the road. As they approached, they made out the glimmer of carriage lamps between the trees. “Nile brought the coach,” Erwin said. “I’ll take you to my house – dress that wound properly.”

“How will you explain that to Nile?” Levi asked. “He’ll want to see me hanged.”

“I’ll think of something,” Erwin replied. “Nate – Nile – he’s a good man.”

Levi scoffed.

“I know you never liked him, but –”

“No – he was a good man. In the end,” Levi conceded. “But it’s not going to look good – a magistrate helping a highwayman. This version of Nile has every reason to hate criminals like me. I can understand his need for vengeance. He’s probably younger than I was when I left Isabel and Farlan to the titans for the sake of avenging myself on you, and I had no motivation beyond stupid pride. Nate or Nile – he’s essentially the same person – and he won’t rest until he achieves what he sees as justice.” Levi sighed. “This is a mess, as usual. I’m going to fuck up your life again, aren’t I? Everyone will condemn you for taking my side.”

“We’ll think of something. For now, I’m taking you home. Here – hold on tight. There’s a ditch.” Erwin’s long stride enabled him to cross the ditch without jolting Levi’s leg too hard. Nile waited on his horse beside the coach, his expression grim.

“Don’t think I’ll allow these actions to pass unchallenged, Edmund,” he said. “I don’t know whether you’re not the man I thought you were, or if this villain has some kind of a hold over you, but if you cannot answer my questions -”

“You have every right to act as you think best,” Erwin replied. “I know my behaviour seems strange. But before I answer your questions, I will see this man safe and his wounds properly dressed. I’ll travel with him. The stage passes the drive to my house in any case – I’ll take him there.”

Erwin carried Levi to the coach. Nile dismounted, and walked beside them. He opened the door, and watched as Erwin manoeuvred Levi through the narrow entrance into the vehicle. Half-stifled gasps and whispers from the occupants of the coach greeted Levi’s arrival. Erwin placed Levi onto a seat beside an elderly man who glared at him, outraged. “What do you mean by this, Sir? You cannot expect this rogue to travel with these ladies?”

On the seat opposite two young women, one dark, one fair, watched the proceedings calmly. “I believe we are equal to the challenge of travelling with an injured thief,” the blonde woman said. “He does not seem a very terrifying highwayman. He’s quite small, isn’t he?” She glanced towards the doorway, where Nile stood, watching Levi intently. “Nathaniel!” the woman cried. “Nathaniel, what are you doing here? Are you the man who brought down this villain?”

“Charlotte? I thought you intended to set out tomorrow?”

“Oh yes, indeed we did, but then we decided, since all our friends had left town for Christmas, that we would come early.” Charlotte turned to the pretty, dark-haired woman beside her. “Maria, this is my cousin, Mr. Nathaniel Dawkins.”

“Nile!” exclaimed Maria. Erwin and Levi stared at the young woman. “Oh,” Erwin said.

“Marie?” Nile’s eyes were fixed on Maria, as though the crowded coach was empty of anyone else. “Marie!”

Nile climbed the step up into the carriage. Marie reached out her hands and he took them, bowing his head, and kissing her fingers. When he looked up into her eyes, his expression was so full of loving wonder that the startled reproof died on Charlotte’s lips.

“Say you aren’t married!” Nile’s voice shook with emotion.

“I’m not!” Marie cried joyfully. “Not this time! I’m free!”

“And will you marry me?” Nile asked. “Please say you’ll marry me?”

“Yes, of course I will! Who else would I willingly marry, Nile?”

Charlotte looked from Marie to Nile, open-mouthed. “Upon my soul!” she finally declared. “Nathaniel – Maria - I had no idea you two were at all acquainted!”

“Oh – yes,” Marie replied, speaking to her friend, but looking only at Nile. “We’ve known each other for a very long time.”

“Congratulations, both of you,” Erwin said, sitting between Levi and the old man, who muttered at being forced to shuffle along the seat to accommodate him. “That was certainly a lot quicker than the first time!”

Marie turned to look at Erwin. Her eyes widened in astonished recognition. “You! But – how –?”

“Because I’m here,” Levi said. He looked meaningfully towards the other occupants of the coach. “We should talk about it later.”

Nile was looking from Erwin to Levi, shock, swiftly followed by amazed understanding, crossing his face. He had the good sense to keep his mouth shut, however.

“Ah, yes,” said Erwin quickly, taking the bag of stolen possessions from beneath his cloak. “Fortunately we were able to retrieve your property. Please, take back what is yours.”

The passengers were soon occupied with reclaiming their valuables, the elderly man and a young dandy arguing briefly over which of the two silver snuff boxes belonged to whom. The old man, clutching his own snuffbox tightly in his hand and glowering at Levi, demanded to know what would happen to the villainous rouge who had almost deprived him of one of his most valuable possessions.

“Oh, no you are mistaken,” Erwin stated calmly. “I was about to explain when my friend and his – now fiancée I should say – met so happily. This man is not the thief. Indeed, he is - quite the opposite. He is a traveller who, happening to be riding towards us as we were about to pursue the villain into the wood, stopped to assist. Unfortunately the highwayman shot first his horse, and then him, as you see, then threw down his bag of plunder and escaped into the night while we were occupied in helping this man.” Erwin looked to Nile for conformation.

“Oh – yes, indeed,” Nile managed. “ _This_ man – deserves praise, not censure.”

“Now that I look at him,” Charlotte said, staring at Levi, “I see that, of course, it is so. I only caught a glimpse of the rogue out of the window, but I am certain he was a much bigger man.” Erwin gave Charlotte his most charming smile. “Miss Dawkins, I’m afraid we haven’t been formally introduced. Edmund Smith, at your service. Your cousin, Nathaniel, is one of my closest friends.”

“Sir Edmund of Highfield House? Ah – a pleasure, indeed. Nate has often spoken of you. My father and yours were friends, I think?”

Erwin kept up a stream of general conversation with Charlotte, and the other passengers soon lost interest in the traveller, who said nothing, and whom, despite his apparently heroic endeavours, some of them secretly blamed a little for the highwayman’s escape.

Throughout the journey Erwin was aware of the tension in Levi’s body as the coach jolted over the rutted road. By the time they reached Highfield House Levi was very pale, his fists clenched at his sides against the pain in his legs. Erwin lifted him out of the carriage, giving orders to the servants who came to meet the coach, telling Nile to ask his cousin and Marie to stay the night until the storm passed.

Levi could make out little of the house in the rain and darkness, but the wide marble staircase and elaborately plastered ceilings told him as much he needed to know. “Knew it would be fucking massive,” he muttered, as Erwin carried him up to a beautifully furnished bedroom, decorated in the latest style. “And _Sir_ Edmund? Seriously?”

“I’m only a minor baronet,” Erwin said, laying Levi on the bed, heedless of the threat of bloodstains on the green silk counterpane.

“Oh,” said Levi, rolling his eyes. “As long as you’re only a _minor_ one…”

“It’s not the first time either of us has had a title,” Erwin reminded him. “Don’t be such a snob, Levi. I sent a servant for hot water and bandages. Where –”

“I’ll live,” Levi said, reaching for Erwin, pulling him close, - “I’m pretty sure I’ll live. That was quick thinking back in the coach, you cunning bastard! But you always were about ten steps ahead of everyone else. Good job Nile had the sense to play along… Looks as though you’ve saved my ass – again. Kiss me, your Lordship, or whatever the fuck I’m supposed to call you now.”

Erwin laughed. “It’s just _Sir_.”

“Tch. Had enough of that the first time around!”

“You never used it anyway.”

“Right. I was always an insubordinate shit, wasn’t I?”

“Never when it mattered.”

“Yeah, well. You usually knew what you were doing. All right then – shut up and kiss me, Sir.”

“Is that an order?”

“Yes, it fucking i-”

*

Levi walked to the long windows and looked out over the snow-covered park. Erwin watched him, feeling a sudden quiet joy at the sight, despite noting the pronounced limp that would probably remain with Levi for the whole of this life. He stood behind Levi, wanting to touch him, aware of the servant girl – one of Levi’s former gang – making rather a hash of sweeping out the library fireplace. When the girl had finished, leaving a trail of sooty footprints on the silk rug, Erwin put his hands on Levi’s waist and smiled. “Mrs. Harris is never going to forgive me for these new appointments. She says it’s up to me who I hire, of course, but I can’t blame her if I get a reputation for having the worst servants in the country.”

“They’ll get better. I’ll teach them. If there’s one thing I can do, it’s clean. I like your housekeeper. She has high standards.”

“Yes. Perhaps, subconsciously, she reminded me of you when I interviewed her.”

“Tch - bossy and stubborn you mean?”

“Efficient and determined.”

Levi said nothing, but Erwin felt his soft exhalation, the subtle relaxation of his muscles that told him he was pleased.

They stood together, watching fresh snow falling.

“Marie and Nile sent a card thanking us for the wedding present,” Erwin said after a long, comfortable silence. “They’ll call here this evening.”

“It’s good to know we’re not the only ones living like this,” Levi said. “I mean, I didn’t think we could be – there's nothing special about us – but it’s another piece in the jigsaw, isn’t it? At lease some of the people from the first life are on the same course as us – meeting again and again in different lives.”

“And having the same problems,” Erwin agreed. “Nile said that this is the first time in ten lives that Marie has been single.”

“Do you think there’s one person for everyone?” Levi asked. “Me and you, Nile and Marie… Or are some people – I don’t know how to put it – _travelling_ I suppose – are some people travelling in groups, or on their own? If they’re alone, does that mean they never remember any other lives?”

“I have no idea,” Erwin said. “In every life, when we meet, I look for answers, but I’ve never been able to find anything definite. There was a Greek myth about people having been split in two by Zeus, eternally searching for their lost halves. Plato believed that the _logos_ – mind, or reason – was immortal – the part of the soul constantly reborn. But I’ve never found any reference to people remembering their other lives – finding each other again like we do. I wonder whether we’ll ever know?” He put one hand on Levi’s head, stroking his hair, once, almost unconsciously. Levi half turned and looked up at him, but made no objection.

“There’s something else, too.” Erwin continued. “Whenever I’ve had the chance, I’ve studied history in all the lives I’ve lived. There are no records of the titans, the walls… Even our _time_ – there’s no place for it in recorded history.”

Levi nodded. “Yeah, that’s weird. And - this is 1743. You joined the _Andromeda_ as a midshipman in 1748. You were twelve.”

“Yes. I didn’t have time to tell you last time, but I realised –”

“You were ninety-two. You must have been born while another you was still living – after I was killed at Passchendaele.”

“That’s right. We’re living different lives that sometimes overlap each other.”

Levi turned to look at Erwin, frowning, puzzled. “But what does that mean? How can we live two lives at the same time?”

“I don’t think it _is_ the same time. I think this life is a different reality from the _Andromeda_ one.”

“You mean like parallel universes or some shit like that?”

“Yes. Just like that.”

“So we’re being born into random times in random realities?”

“I have no idea if it’s random or not. We haven’t lived nearly enough lives to tell. But as far as I know, we’ve never been born into a time where our original life existed. Unless it was so far back – in pre-history – that all we have left are myths about titans and giants, dismissed as legends and fairy tales.”

Levi sighed. “So what you’re really saying is we know even less than we thought we did. I - I hoped that by sticking around last time for as long as Isabel needed me, I might be getting some kind of – something like _credit_ , you know? Of course I wanted to help her – I’m not saying I didn’t – but I hoped…”

“That it might be one thing ticked off some kind of list? That we might be on the path to fulfilling some goal?”

“Yeah. And maybe, at the end of it, there would be an answer.”

“I hoped that, too.” Erwin took Levi’s hand. “At least, with the titans, we had questions that could be answered, even if the answers often seemed impossible to obtain. And it’s possible that we _are_ on some kind of quest that does have an end, but it’s equally possible that we’ll just keep on being born into new lives like this for eternity.”

“Eternity sounds like a hell of a long time,” Levi tried to joke.

“It doesn’t sound so bad,” Erwin said. “Not if we’re together. At least, this time, everything’s worked out for the best.”

“Yeah – if people believe that story you came up with about me being your long-lost second cousin!”

“They will. In this time, being rich, and titled, and a magistrate, counts for a lot.”

“Huh. Show me a time where it _doesn’t_!”

“Besides, people love coincidences. It makes a good tale: you stopped to help me on the road, you were wounded by a vicious highwayman –”

“Dastardly bastard!” Levi said. “Fucking _huge_ , too, I heard.”

Erwin laughed. “Practically a giant. And then, when we were talking, we discovered a family connection…”

“What are the chances of randomly running into someone connected to you, out of all the people in the world?” Levi asked, smiling.

Erwin pulled Levi against him, and kissed the top of his head. “Yes," he said, holding onto Levi, at least for now - for as long as this life would give them - "what are the chances of that?” 


	5. 50/50

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cold War Spies. Mentions of torture, but not angsty all the way through... Spoilers for ACWNR and the manga up to chapter 59.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so grateful for all your kind comments about this fic, and so many interesting speculations and ideas. This chapter is my attempt at the spy genre about which I know not a lot, so sorry for any and all glaring inaccuracies. I comfort myself with the thought that if I'm way off with how things operate, this could be taking place in one of Levi and Erwin's alternative versions of reality (useful cop-out there).

October 1972,

SIS (Secret Intelligence Service), Century House, Westminster, London

 

“Yes, you’re right. We don’t have any other choice,” Howard Bailey agreed, shielding his eyes from the too-bright sunlight as he peered at the documents spread out on Erland Smith’s desk. “Lobov knows he’s got a mole. If we’re lucky, he’s not twigged that there are two of them. We have to give him one, or the entire setup will be compromised. I’m sorry Erland – this is a hell of a first day for you, isn’t it?”

“It’s not ideal,” Erland said dryly. “Which of the two is more valuable to us, in your judgement?”

“I don’t know either of them personally,” Bailey replied. “They were recruited before my time on this floor. I’ve read the files, and, from a utilitarian standpoint, there’s nothing to choose between them. They’ve both done sterling service so far.” He hesitated, then added, “If you don’t want to make that choice, I could toss a coin… Honestly, they’re both consummate professionals.”

Erland looked at him, only a slight lift of his eyebrows betraying anything of the anger and incredulity he felt at Bailey’s cynicism. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll decide. I’ll let you know.”

“We need to move quickly,” Bailey said, “if we’re going to control the inevitable leak.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that. I’ll give you my decision in an hour.”

Bailey nodded, and left Erland to his unenviable task. One of the two agents in the files on that desk would be dead within the week. Or else he would probably wish he were, Bailey reflected grimly, making his way back to his own office. He’d been disappointed not to get the section director’s job, but having met Erland Smith he grudgingly approved the appointment. The man was impressive, Bailey had to give him that. He doubted whether he could have dealt with such a weight of responsibility so calmly on his first day in the post.

Erland stared down at the two photographs on the desk. Roman Berezin, twenty-seven. Lev Askenov, twenty-five. He’d read their files from cover to cover that morning, and Bailey had been correct – from a professional point of view there was no obvious choice. Physically the two men could hardly be more different, Erland noted. Berezin was a six-foot, muscular blond, who looked out of his photograph through wide-set blue eyes, his expression speaking of confident determination. Askenov’s file listed his height as five foot three. Black haired, and probably dark-eyed, although it was difficult to tell from the small photograph, Lev Askenov’s expression was impassive, or even faintly hostile, although that impression could just have been created by the frown lines between his fine, straight brows. His features were generally small – unremarkable really – but something about his face appealed to Erland in a way that unsettled him, stirring feelings he thought he’d effectively suppressed years ago, and which he’d certainly never acted on. If he had done, he would never have found himself in this post; the vetting process would have made damn sure of that.

However, it wasn’t only his half-acknowledged physical attraction to Lev Askenov’s face that disturbed him. There was something familiar about the little Russian agent, too – although Erland was certain they had never met. But his eyes were repeatedly drawn to Lev’s photograph, as he struggled to make his choice.

 

Erland handed a file to his secretary on his way to Bailey’s office. “I’d like a copy of the personal details in this file please, Brenda,” he said, handing her the buff manilla folder.

“Yes, Sir,” Brenda replied, smiling. “It will be a good chance for me to get to grips with the new Xerox machine.”

Erland smiled back, automatically charming. It was part of his job, after all.

His smile faded as soon as he had closed the door of Bailey’s office behind him.

“You’ve decided?” Bailey asked.

“Yes. We keep Berezin.”

“May I ask what swung the decision?”

Erland sighed. “It was the girlfriend and the kid,” he said. “Lev Askenov has no family. There wasn’t anything else to choose between them.”

Bailey nodded. “All right. I’ll set the wheels in motion. It’s a shame, about Askenov. But – the price of freedom…”

“Sacrifices have to be made,” Erland agreed. “It’s an unpleasant necessity. My aunt was shot as a spy during the war, in occupied France. I hope Askenov’s death will be that quick.”

“If this were a James Bond film, all our agents would carry cyanide capsules,” Bailey said, attempting, feebly, to lighten the mood.

“If this were a James Bond film, I’d be driving an Aston Martin with machineguns and an ejector seat,” Erland replied, forcing a smile.

“He had a Ford Mustang, in the last one,” Bailey pointed out.

“I’d rather keep it classic,” Erland said, accepting Bailey’s proffered cigarette although he didn't usually indulge, trying not to think about whether Askenov smoked, and, if so, how many cigarettes he was away from his last.

 

December 1983, Chelsea, London

 

Erland arrived home well after dark. He reached into his pocket for his keys, his lips tightening a little at a twinge of pain in his right arm, doubtless set off by the damp weather. He’d been lucky – the bullet hadn’t even broken the bone – but recently, in cold, wet weather, the injury had started to bother him.

“Must be getting old,” he muttered under his breath. The cat appeared, as usual, and wrapped itself around his legs as he put the key into the lock.

He opened the door and stepped into the hallway, taking off his wet coat and scarf and hanging them on the Victorian coat stand next to the mirror. The cat hesitated in the doorway. “Are you coming in?” Erland asked. The cat looked at him, then walked past, its tail in the air, leaving small wet paw prints on the black and white tiles. Erland closed the door and threw the bolts before bending to take off his shoes. He went into the kitchen, switched on the kettle, and was reaching for the blue and white ceramic jar in which he kept the teabags when he heard the familiar click of a safety catch being released, somewhere near his left ear.

“I would say make me one, too,” a low voice said, behind him, and below the level of his head, “but I’d prefer it if you’d put your hands in the air instead.”

Erland obeyed, his mind working furiously trying to place that voice. Nothing came. There was a slight accent, but not enough to make a confident guess as to the speaker’s nationality. All he could be sure of was that the man had a gun, and was either stooping or unusually short. Ah… A name came to his lips, but he didn’t speak it. _That_ man was long dead, surely?

“Erland Smith.”

“What do you want?” Erland asked, as calmly as he could manage given the loathing he detected in the voice behind him.

“I want to kill you. But first, I want to know why you betrayed me – why you never acted on the information I risked my life to send you.”

“What information?” Erland asked.

“Roman Berezin still works for the SIS, but he’s been passing selected secrets to the KGB, and carefully feeding you misinformation for years! I sent a message –”

“Lev. Lev Askenov.”

For the first time the controlled fury in the man’s tone lessened, replaced by surprise. “You remember!”

“Yes, I remember. I thought you were dead. We had no choice but to sacrifice one of you. I’m sorry if I picked the wrong one. We never received a message about Berezin.”

“But – I sent it. I used the short wave radio – the numbers station. The day before they arrested me. It would have been decoded –”

Erland lowered his hands slowly and turned around. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, it would have been. Which means –”

He stopped talking as his eyes met those of the small man with the gun. “Oh, god,” Erwin said. “Levi!”

Levi lowered the gun. “Erwin. Shit, Erwin – you couldn’t pick right with fifty-fifty odds and a fucking photograph?”

“I thought you were dead! Levi – if you’d died I’d never have known it was you! I could have killed you, and I’d never have known -” Erwin took a step forward, but the look on Levi’s face halted him.

“There were a lot of times I wished I was dead,” Levi said. “It might have been better…” He looked over his shoulder, as if he expected someone to be there. “I’m – not… They did a lot of shit –”

Erwin held out his hand, and, after a moment’s hesitation, Levi took it. Gently, Erwin drew him close until Levi’s head was resting against his chest. Erwin put his arms around Levi carefully. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Not your fault. You didn’t know. Funny, how not even a photo –”

“There was something about it. I couldn’t stop looking at your face. Even afterwards - I saved Berezin because he had a girlfriend and a child, but I always kept your picture. I told myself it was to remind me of the consequences of my choices, but that wasn’t all it was. I didn’t _remember_ , but I recognised something in you –”

“Weird thing is, if you _had_ saved me we might never have met,” Levi said. “I’d still be out there – like Berezin is now. I didn’t hate you for sacrificing me – I always accepted that I was a pawn. No - I hated you when I found out Berezin was still operating, after I escaped from the cell I’d been in for ten years. Ah – it doesn’t matter now. But they fucked me up pretty bad, Erwin. You might not want –”

“I always want you. You know that. We’ve been in worse states than this.”

Levi looked up at him, and Erwin noticed a long scar along his left cheekbone. He traced it with his index finger. “This was their work?”

“Tch – that’s the least of it. I’m a mess. I can’t – Not everything works right any more.” He gave an abrupt laugh. “They asked me which testicle I was more attached to. Did you know that in the first life, Hange asked Sanes pretty much the same question? I’m still not sure whether or not Hange would’ve gone through with it, but - _they_ did. Maybe this was payback, for Sanes and the other stuff we did? You think that’s how it works?”

“I don’t know. I sure as hell hope not, or I’m due a whole world of suffering somewhere down the line. I’m so sorry, Levi.”

“I told you – it’s not your fault.” Levi sighed. “Another fucked up life. At least you’re not with anyone this time.”

“How do you –”

“Shit, how do you think I know? I’m a fucking _spy_! I thought you were supposed to be some kind of big shot in intelligence, _Erland_? I know all about your life – I’ve been on your case ever since I made it back to England.” Levi shook his head, looking up at Erwin. “What kind of a dumbass name is Erland anyway?”

“It’s a family name. I quite like it, actually.”

“I don’t. I like Erwin. Tch - you’re the same handsome bastard as always. Haven’t even lost your arm this time.”

“I was shot in Berlin when I was still a field operative – years ago. But it wasn’t a bad wound. I’ll show you…”

Levi kissed him, with affectionate warmth rather than heated passion. “Yeah – we’ll do that. But make that tea first. I’ve been waiting in your shitty freezing house for hours, intending to put a bullet in your head – and now the only thing I could murder is a cup of tea.”

Reluctantly, Erwin let go of Levi, and turned to make the tea. Levi watched him, half smiling. “Both hands…” he murmured. “Last time was good, for as long as it lasted. Both of us whole. Nile and Marie...”

“Yes. I wonder where they are now?”

“I haven’t met anyone this time,” Levi said. “You?”

“No – no one I recognise. I wish I’d made the right choice, Levi. I – It wasn’t only because Berezin had the girlfriend and the kid.” Erwin carried two mugs of tea to the sturdy pine table in the middle of the kitchen, and pulled out a chair for Levi. As Levi crossed the room to sit down, Erwin noticed the stiffness of his movements, the noticeable limp. His lips tightened. “God, Levi – how bad is it?”

“Not great, but I lived. What were you saying about Berezin?”

Erwin sighed. “I couldn’t see it at the time – or, at least, I couldn’t admit it to myself – but I think the real reason I didn’t choose you was because I was so drawn to your picture. _Attracted_. I – that is, Erland – had spent his whole life suppressing his attraction to men. I think, subconsciously, he – I – felt that if I saved you it would be because of that attraction and he couldn’t afford -”

“And you have to find something to beat yourself up about in every single fucking life, don’t you?” Levi said, frowning into his tea. He looked up at Erwin. “You know how I escaped? There was one guard who wasn’t as bad as the others. I did everything they trained you to do – got to know him – made him see me as a human being – and then, when he let his attention slip, I hit him over the back of the head with the metal bucket they gave me to shit in, and took his gun. I don’t know if I killed him – but if I didn’t he’s most likely either in prison or dead, for letting me escape. His name was Erik. He had a boy called Sacha, and he liked horses – grew up on a farm. I felt bad for him even then, when this life was all I knew. I feel worse now. But what good does feeling guilty do, when there’s nothing we can do about it? The question is, what do we do _now_? This one’s not easy, is it? You’re too high-profile to just disappear.” Levi attempted to lift the mug in his habitual overhand grip, but it was apparently too heavy for him, and he set it down again.

Erwin’s eyes fixed on Levi’s hand – the way it shook when he lifted it away from the mug – the obvious weakness in someone who had always been so strong.

“You’re right,” he said. “It won’t be easy. But I’ll find a way to fake my death. Everyone assumes you’re dead anyway. You’re here illegally I take it?”

“Yeah, of course. I stowed away on a cross-channel ferry from Calais. Port security is shit.” Levi started violently as something touched his leg. He shoved his chair back from the table and jumped to his feet, backing against the wall. He let out a shaky breath as a small black and white cat shot across the kitchen and out into the hallway, startled by his sudden movements.

Erwin got to his feet carefully and went to Levi, who touched Erwin’s arm briefly, but then returned to his chair, turning away from Erwin and avoiding his concerned gaze. “It’s okay. I’m okay. Guess this life’s staying with me a bit longer than usual, that’s all. Jumpy as fuck, but I’ll be okay. What’s the cat called?”

“It’s not mine. It just showed up at the door one day. I think some people along the road moved house and left it behind. I haven’t given it a name. Just – Cat.”

“Huh.”

“Levi –”

Levi raised one hand in warning. “Don’t! Don’t say you’re sorry again. It’s just a learned reaction, okay? Now I remember everything, it’ll get better.”

“I wasn’t going to say that. I was going to ask you to come upstairs. I want you, Levi. If you still want me.”

“Yeah,” Levi said, not looking at Erwin. “I want you. I nearly killed you. I was thinking _should I let him know why, or should I just put a bullet in his skull and walk away?_ I’d decided to kill you. Not much use explaining anything to a dead man, right? But when I saw you – just the back of your head, and your hands – I changed my mind. I didn’t remember until you turned around, but there was something familiar –”

“Like I felt, with the photo.”

“If I’d killed you,” Levi mused, frowning, “would I have known afterwards? When I saw your face, would the memories have come back, or do we have to be alive to remember?”

Erwin smiled. “I would guess that we have to be alive, but I suppose there’s no way of knowing for sure.”

“Funny,” Levi said, “I didn’t feel like that when I saw your photo – when I was researching exactly who it was I needed to kill. Or maybe – there was a kind of recognition. But I didn’t want to think about it. The fact that I was attracted – the fact that you were such a fucking handsome bastard – those things just made me want to kill you _more_.”

Erwin reached across the table and took Levi’s hand. “No change from the first time there, then.”

“What – you think I wanted you even then, when you were threatening Izzy and Farlan, and blackmailing me into joining the corps? Tch.”

Erwin raised an eyebrow. “So – you _didn’t_?”

Levi scowled at him, but Erwin was relieved to see the flicker of familiar ironic humour in his eyes. “You’re so fucking vain,” Levi muttered.

“I wanted you,” Erwin said. “I didn’t admit it to myself of course – but I think I wanted you from the first moment I first saw you fly.”

“We wasted a lot of time back then,” Levi said, getting to his feet. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

 

Erwin’s bedroom was simply furnished in a fashion that reminded Levi forcefully of the commander’s rooms in the Survey Corps HQ. The only nods to the fashion of the era were the grey, black and red striped duvet on the bed, and the oversized globe of the wire and white paper lampshade. Everything else - the simple wooden bed frame, functional wardrobe and bare floorboards – could have come straight from the first life. Levi sat on the edge of the bed, and, without waiting for Erwin to join him, began to remove his clothes, his hands trembling as he tugged at his tie. Erwin knelt on the floor in front of him, and put his own hands over Levi’s, stilling them.

“Levi – you don’t have to show me. We don’t have to –”

“We do. Like you always say, what if this is the last time? This life is – it’s harder to shake off than usual, but – I understand what you mean now – about not being the same person when you remember. Before, I always felt that I was more or less _me_ – just in a different time or a slightly different body. But this time… I don’t want to be Lev Askenov. I don’t want to have been him. He was – in the end he was so fucking _helpless_. I’ve always been able to fight but – what they did to him –”

“You – he – _did_ fight, Levi. You escaped. You made it here. You found me.”

“I came here to kill you!”

“But you didn’t kill me. And we have time again. We don’t have to do anything now. I need to deal with Berezin, but after that –”

Levi’s eyes widened. “Deal with Berezin? What – you’re taking sides?”

Erwin moved to sit beside Levi on the bed. “Yes. Someone intercepted your transmission. Someone inside the service knows about Berezin. I can’t just burn him – not if we have a mole. He could be very useful where he is, if –”

“You’re not Erland Smith anymore. This isn’t your fight. Why does it matter –?”

“You can say that, after what they did to you?”

Levi stared at Erwin incredulously. “What – you think they have the monopoly on torture? You think we - they - the West I mean – you think they never used those methods when it suited them?”

“I know we did. We _do_. Nothing’s ever as simple as it seems at first, is it? The first time, in the Survey Corps, I tried for a bloodless revolution, and look where that got us! But, still, you can’t deny that some regimes are better than others, and in this case, I think I should at least let Bailey know about Berezin. Bailey will be head of my division when I – disappear. He’s not a bad man, although his cynicism used to make me angry. When I was trying to decide between saving you or Berezin, he suggested tossing a coin. Now, I wonder whether that might have been fairer.”

“Fairness,” Levi said. “Ha. There’s a concept! The more lives we live, the more I have no idea how to choose the right path. I never knew, even at the start. I tried to think everything through, and in the end – I don’t know - maybe I might as well have tossed a coin?”

“I don’t believe that,” Erwin said. “I don’t think you believe it, either – not really. You never hesitated when it mattered.”

“Yes – and sometimes my choices were wrong, and people died.”

“And so were mine, sometimes. But often we were both right. More often than not, I think. Refusing to make a choice – sitting on the fence - that’s the real sin, in my book.”

“Is it?” Levi asked. “Maybe. But that can be a choice, too. In the first life, Armin saved Jean’s life once, towards the end. He shot an MP soldier who was pointing her gun at Jean. Jean blamed himself for not shooting her when he had the chance – Armin blamed himself for being ruthless. He only managed to kill her, because _she_ hesitated to kill Jean. Armin made the right decision from our point of view – but was Jean wrong to hold fire? _Morally_ , he wasn’t wrong. And that MP woman – she must have believed she was upholding the peace – doing the right thing. I thought about this kind of shit a lot, in prison – what’s right, what’s wrong. Knocking out that guard was the only way I could think of to escape – but he’s probably dead now. He wasn’t a bad man. The things I’ve done – in this life, and the others…” Levi sighed. “If you asked me whether I’m good or evil, I wouldn’t know how to reply. I followed you because you seemed to have the – the _certainty_ I was missing.”

“I thought I was certain,” Erwin said. “In the first life, I clung on to the belief that my goal was virtuous even when my methods were morally questionable.” He smiled grimly. “Listen to me equivocating. _Evil_ , I should say. I was prepared to do evil things for what I thought was the greater good. But then everything started to unravel, and, like your MP soldier, the face of the enemy turned out to be only human after all.”

“Yeah – well, what else would it be?” Levi asked. “We spent all that time fighting titans, and it turned out they weren’t the monsters we thought they were. People always seem to end up fighting other people one way or another. I’m so fucking tired of it all.”

“I think all we can do is try to make what we judge to be the best moral choice each time,” Erwin said. “Anything else just leads to paralysis. And in this life, things are so finely balanced… I have to act on what you’ve told me about Berezin.”

“And you won’t settle for just tipping off Bailey, with you? You can’t risk it, because for all you know, Bailey _is_ the mole. And you won’t just burn Berezin. You’ll find out where your leak is, fix it, and then use Berezin - if you can get enough info from the mole to keep running him.”

“Yes.”

Levi sighed. “So it goes on…”

“Yes! You know how close _everything_ came to ending in ’62! However flawed and terrible and frustrating the world is – don’t you think it’s better that it goes on?”

Levi shook his head. “You and your speeches! Shit, Erwin, we don’t even know _which_ world this is – how many versions of reality we’re travelling through! For all we know there are versions where everything _did_ end in ’62.” He held up his hand before Erwin could interrupt. “No – I do understand what you’re saying. We have to believe that things can get better. It’s what we were fighting for the first time, and even when we thought we only had that one life, we were prepared to die for the idea of freedom. It’s just – it’s sometimes hard to know what that means. It’s such a fine word… But there are a lot of fine words. Equality. Peace –”

“Love,” said Erwin.

Levi smiled faintly. “That, too.”

Levi stood up and undressed as quickly as his damaged body would allow, folding his clothes as neatly as always, placing them on a chest of drawers beside the small cast iron fireplace. Erwin started to take off his shirt, but froze when he saw the cross-hatching of red and white scar tissue on Levi’s back and buttocks. Levi heard the soft hiss of Erwin’s indrawn breath.

“Told you it wasn’t pretty.”

“Levi – I’m –”

“- Say you’re sorry one more time and I’m leaving. I mean it. If this is how it’s gonna be, I’ll take a chance on the next life. Even if this is the last time – I’m not spending the next however many years listening to you trying to apologize for something you had no control over.” Levi turned around and stepped forward, shoulders back, concealing nothing. “Take a good look, Erwin. Back’s worse than the front, mostly. All the physical stuff happened early on, over a few – weeks I think. I lost track. Then they started on the mind games – sleep deprivation, stress positions, all that. I didn’t tell them anything useful. They never knew I’d found out about Berezin. After that I was moved to a different cell and they kept me alive – I’m not sure why. Maybe someone thought I might be useful in an exchange at some point? Anyway, upshot is – left leg’s fucked, as usual - scar tissue means I can’t move easily – back doesn’t bend well. And… I’m lucky I can still piss okay, but I can’t get it up properly any more. I can just about come, but it takes forever, and it’s… Yeah, that phrase, ‘like a damp squib’? That’s –”

“Levi.” Erwin went to Levi and put his arms around him carefully.

“It’s okay,” Levi said. “Where the scarring is there’s not much feeling anyway. You don’t have to treat me like I’ll break.”

“I know. Nothing ever breaks you. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known - in any life. Levi – we don’t have to have sex at all if it’s difficult. We’ve had so many lives – It’s not what matters.”

Levi scowled up at him, but his eyes flashed, amused again. “Are you fucking kidding? I’m a bit of a wreck, but I’m not _dead_! Ten years in a filthy cell, and you’re not even going to fuck me? Tch – didn’t think even you were _that_ much of a basta –”

 

August 1984, Oban, Scotland

 

At this time of year the beach was often deserted at dawn, and Erwin risked taking Levi’s hand as they walked along the shoreline. For all that _Frankie Goes to Hollywood_ were Relaxing all over the charts and the slogan t-shirts of teenagers, they still had to be careful about anything that would draw attention to themselves.

The tide had washed up dozens of small jellyfish, the flattened domes of their bodies transparent apart from four vivid purple rings arranged like the petals of a flower.

Levi prodded one with the toe of his shoe. “And I thought titans were weird!” he said softly. “Hange would like these.”

“Yes. I wonder where Hange ended up this time?”

“And all the others. We might still meet someone in this life…”

Erwin smiled. “I think you already have. It only occurred to me the other day, wondering how Bailey’s getting on feeding Berezin disinformation – do you think Roman Berezin could be Reiner Braun?”

“Shit!” Levi stopped dead, staring at Erwin. “I never had much contact with Braun, but – yeah. Yeah I think you’re right!”

“Still attempting to breach the walls…” Erwin said.

Levi looked away from the bay, up towards the town and the huge circular structure of McCaig’s Tower, dark against the lightening sky. “Patterns…” he said. “Do you think there’s an end to it?”

“I don’t know. But in these lives – when we end up together, and by the sea – I don’t want an end to it,” Erwin replied.

Levi nodded, thinking of their small terraced house between the hills and the bay – the noisy teenaged girls next door and the way they fought over their music, one playing _Duran Duran_ and the other _Depeche Mode_ until their mother threatened to throw the record player out of the window – _an’ you tway wi’ it_ – the old man on the other side whose huge ginger tom had fought with Cat until it learned better, and the two animals had settled into an uneasy truce. Erwin had planned everything meticulously, as always, from the car accident that caused his ‘death’, to the documents, bank accounts and back-stories that enabled them to live their new lives: Ed Smith, who ran seal-watching trips along the coast, and his lodger, Levi, who had made money in the city in his twenties and had come to Scotland for a quieter life – the last part of which, at least, was true.

“Let’s take the boat out,” Levi said. “Just us, for once. Sea’s like glass this morning.”

“All right,” Erwin agreed, “Why not? Make the most of the peace before the tourists arrive.”

As they drew nearer to the quay Levi let go of Erwin’s hand – there were usually a few fishermen about at this time of day – but they still walked side by side along the shingly sand, Erwin’s stride shortened to match Levi’s – Levi’s limp still apparent, but no longer causing pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I was going to include it, but I expect everyone can guess what Levi and Erwin called their boat, and what symbol they painted on the stern.


	6. Senza Cura, Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the amazing reaction to this story. The next two chapters started off as one long one, but it made more sense to split them. I'm posting them at the same time so the story will make sense. Erwin and Levi in Venice. I don't know Italian at all well so please forgive mistakes, and let me know so I can correct them. Translations of the few phrases I've used are in the end notes. 
> 
> Angst in this half, smut in the next!

The young man was just as he had been described: small for his twenty-or-so years, attractive enough to pass as a page in the duke’s house, cold-eyed, determined.

“What’s your name, boy?” the cardinal asked.

“Lanzo.” The youth made absolutely no attempt to ingratiate himself – no polite honorific – not even a smile. The cardinal smiled anyway, his rings glittering in the candlelight as he fingered the small piece of parchment in his right hand. “Your surname?”

Lanzo shrugged his narrow shoulders. “Never knew it.”

“You have family?”

“No family.”

“An acquaintance of mine – and yours - tells me that you have certain skills.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“There’s a masquerade ball at a palazzo on the Grand Canal… Our acquaintance tells me you can read?”

“I can read.”

“Remarkable. Read this. Tell me when you’ve memorized it.”

Lanzo took the parchment without comment. He read the instructions through twice, then looked up at the cardinal and nodded.

“Burn it,” the cardinal ordered.

As they both watched the parchment curl and crisp in the candle flame, the cardinal reflected on the useful effects of ambition and poverty on a man forced to survive on nothing but the strength of his will and his wits.

“All you’ll need is in the bag on the table,” the cardinal said. “Your payment will be delivered upon completion of the task.”

“But the first installment is here?” Lanzo picked up the small leather purse from beside the bag on the table, and shook the gold coins onto his palm. He must have counted the money in his head; his lips never moved. When he was satisfied, he tied the purse securely to his belt and concealed it beneath his green woollen cloak. He took the bag from the table and slung it over his shoulder.

“Lanzo,” the Cardinal mused. “Named for a weapon. That’s appropriate. Make sure your aim is true.”

“I don’t miss,” Lanzo replied.

“Our mutual acquaintance will give you the remainder of your payment,” the cardinal said. “When you’ve accomplished your task.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Lanzo said. For the first time the cardinal saw emotion from him – a cool gleam of amusement in his eyes, immediately suppressed. Was it possible he suspected the form his payment would take? Well, even if that were the case, the promise of such a large amount of money would surely be enough to lure him back once he’d spent the advance on drink and whores. These street thugs rarely had the discipline to make a success of their crimes - although the fact that this Lanzo had learned to read was a rarity… But the cardinal was an expert in balancing temptation against fear. If there was one thing he still had faith in, it was human greed.

 

Back in the tiny, damp room he currently called home, Lanzo opened the bag he’d been given and took out the clothes that would constitute his disguise and his way into the ball at which he had been contracted to kill Ercole da Ferrara. The page’s uniform was simply designed, but the fine weave of the cloth, from the linen undershirt, to the dark green doublet and particoloured green-and-cream hose, was more luxurious than anything Lanzo had ever worn in his life. Duke Tito certainly didn’t stint when it came to clothing his servants, although Lanzo was well aware that the reason was political rather than generous – a way of advertising his enormous wealth to the other important families of Venice.

Beneath the uniform was a pair of soft leather shoes, which, Lanzo thought, looked rather too big for him. That could prove a minor annoyance - he intended to enter the palazzo by climbing over the roof of the neighbouring building – and there was nowhere in them to conceal a blade just in case something went wrong, as he was used to doing when wearing boots out on the streets. But that wouldn’t be a problem; even servants carried daggers quite openly, for protection and for cutting food. Ah – yes there was even a belt and a sheath tucked beneath the shoes, although he was obviously expected to provide his own dagger. Well, that was one thing he _did_ possess.

Lanzo tried on the uniform, wondering what he looked like in such finery. As he’d thought, the shoes were too big. He’d have to be careful crossing the rooftops. At least, if all went to plan, there would be no need for a swift escape after the event. He took a small leather pouch from the bag and carefully extracted the tiny glass vial that held the poison. He unstopped the vial and sniffed the liquid inside, being sure not to inhale too deeply.

“Belladonna,” he murmured. Something else, too – a familiar bitter scent he knew would not have an equally bitter taste when combined with wine. Yes – Lanzo knew this poison. It was _senza cura_ , without cure, quickly absorbed into the blood - known as _il fato_ because after a single dose the recipient was fated to die, slowly, and in pain. Even without the addition of the lethal combination of arsenic and other toxins contained in _il fato_ , Lanzo knew that nightshade poisoning was usually a slow death, its initial symptoms similar to those of intoxication. Ercole da Ferrara would think he’d just overindulged in Duke Tito’s excellent wine – until the hallucinations and cramps set in, followed by creeping paralysis. Not a pleasant death.

But that wasn’t Lanzo’s concern; he was only a method of delivery. He knew nothing of Ercole da Ferrara beyond what the cardinal’s instructions had told him: his name, general appearance, and a description of the clothes he would be wearing for the ball – information doubtless obtained by spies from a gossipy servant, seamstress or mask maker. Of course, the fact he came from Ferrara might mean that the man had connections with the d’Este family – or it might not. Lanzo didn’t give a shit whether his future victim worked for or against Ferrara’s ruling family, or was affiliated to some other powerful noble house. In his experience all nobles were the same: power-hungry, grasping bastards who would use anyone for their own ends without mercy or remorse. Lanzo’s own mother had paid the price for being born beautiful and poor…

 _Enough of that. This is a job, not vengeance_ , Lanzo reminded himself. Calm and clarity – those were the keys to being a successful assassin. And not getting greedy. This job would be his last in Venice. He’d met men like the cardinal before; knew well that if he ever sought his final payment it would consist of a dagger in the chest and his weighted corpse at the bottom of the lagoon. The cardinal’s advance, added to what he’d already saved, would be enough to achieve his aim – to start a new life in another, far away city – Paris, perhaps, or London. If he took the money and ran, he would never be free. For all their wealth, noblemen hated nothing more than being cheated. No – he would do this last job, and then leave his past behind.

At the bottom of the bag the cardinal had given him, Lanzo found a black masquerade mask – simple, as such things went – designed to cover only the eyes. An intricate tracery of thin wire decorated the border, and a spray of blue-black feathers on the left hand side was presumably a reference to the ravens on Duke Tito’s family crest. Lanzo held the mask up to his face. Ravens were considered birds of ill omen, weren’t they? Ercole da Ferrara’s ghost would certainly have cause to think so.

 

Ercole was easy to spot, even in crowds as dense as the ones that packed Duke Tito’s palazzo. A man of impressive stature, golden haired, wearing a costume and mask exactly as described in the cardinal's instructions - Lanzo marked his target almost immediately, as he made his way through the throng. Secure in his own disguise, Lanzo hadn't been surprised that no one had questioned him when he’d slipped into the kitchen and taken one of the large earthenware flagons that the duke’s pages were using to serve wine to the guests. For an event of this size it was common for extra servants to be borrowed from the households of friends and relatives of the host, and, wearing the correct uniform and mask, Lenzo knew that he would be all but invisible to the partygoers – as much a part of the scenery as the spectacular displays of flowers and fruit that decorated the laden tables, but nowhere near as remarkable. Lanzo paused to pour Duke Tito’s rich red wine into the glass of a noblewoman clad in a damasked silk gown and an elaborate velvet mask patterned with gold lace. He had no time for the woman’s smiles, even when she touched his cheek and leaned close to his ear to whisper, “Grazie… mio piccolo corvino.” He gave a small, polite bow and moved away. In the portego the dancing had begun: it would soon be time.

Lanzo moved through the crowd, serving wine to the guests until he judged that there was just a little more than enough left to fill four glasses, allowing for the dregs at the bottom of the flagon. He manoeuvred close to the spot where Ercole da Ferrara was deep in conversation with three ostentatiously dressed merchants, slid the tiny vial of poison from his sleeve into his palm and loosened the stopper. He positioned himself beside a marble pillar, waiting until Ercole’s glass was empty.

Ercole laughed at something one of the merchants said, his teeth flashing white in the candlelight beneath the bright diamond patterns of his enamelled harlequin mask. Lanzo insinuated himself between Ercole and a fat merchant, turning slightly to the man on his right, his back to his intended victim. He raised the flagon and looked around at the three merchants. “Signori?”

All three merchants drained their nearly empty glasses and held them out for him to fill. Lanzo poured the wine, his hand steady. When he came to Ercole, he flicked the stopper off the vial with his thumb. As Lanzo had hoped, Ercole followed his companions’ lead automatically, allowing his glass to be filled. As he poured the wine, the hand containing the vial positioned beneath the spout of the flagon as if to steady the heavy vessel, Lanzo let the poison flow into the glass along with the wine, assuring an effective mix. Even if Ercole were a cautious man, Lanzo knew that no one would suspect poisoned wine from a flagon offered generally in this way by the Duke’s own servant, in his own house. Besides, few people had the slight of hand to pull off the trick he’d just accomplished, and fewer still would run the risk of instant execution by carrying poison at all. But it was premature to congratulate himself. As he slipped back into the crowd, Lanzo heard one of the merchants making a toast. He risked a glance back, and saw that Ercole’s glass was already half empty.

“Hey, boy – more wine!” a voice called from somewhere to his right.

“Oh – excuse me – I’ve run out,” Lanzo replied, keeping his head down. “I’ll fetch some more.”

“Be quick about it.”

Lanzo had no choice but to head for the kitchen. He had to stay at the ball long enough make sure that Ercole da Ferrara had taken the full dose. Another servant hurried past him as he went out into the tiny courtyard beside the canal, and busied himself pretending to empty the dregs from the flagon into the waste barrel until the coast was clear. As soon as the yard was empty, Lanzo dropped the poison vial into the flagon, and, checking again to make sure that he wasn’t observed, pitched the flagon into the water. It sank with a satisfying gurgle. He leaned against the wall, looking out at the passing gondolas and other small craft, lanterns glowing at their bows and sterns. Across the canal, lamps shone brightly in the windows of the opulent houses and palazzos. Music from another ball drifted across the water. Despite the underlying stench of humanity, stagnant water and rotting piles, Venice was a beautiful city, Lanzo thought - but it was time for him to be gone. First, though, he needed to be sure his task was complete.

Lanzo walked back into the building, avoiding the man who had called for more wine, and headed for the stairs, passing deliberately close to the place where Ercole still stood talking to the rich merchants. As he walked by them, Lanzo glanced in Ercole’s direction, and was relieved to see that his glass was already empty. Whether by coincidence, or because he felt eyes upon him, Ercole turned his head and looked straight at Lanzo.

 _Senza cura_.

Oh, Erwin…

It was too late to stop the effects of the poison. The dose in the vial had been enough to kill a dozen men. Within the next hour, Erwin would start to feel the first insidious symptoms: dizziness, rapid heartbeat, loss of balance. There was nothing to be done. Levi raised his head, resolute, and walked towards Erwin, who had abandoned the merchants without a word, and was moving towards him. When they met, Erwin took Levi’s arm. “I have a gondola waiting by the water gate. I was intending to leave early anyway. I had business that means nothing, now.”

Levi nodded dumbly; went where Erwin steered him. As a servant called to the gondolier, Erwin rested his hand lightly on the small of Levi’s back. “We’ve been lucky, lately,” he said softly. “We’ve had so many lives near the sea.”

Levi swallowed hard. “Lucky,” he echoed.

“How old are you this time?” Erwin asked. Levi glanced up at him, his heart a stone in his chest. “Younger than you, anyway,” he said, attempting a smile. He looked away.

“And - _everything_ works, this time?”

“Yes.” Levi couldn’t meet Erwin’s gaze, couldn’t bear the warmth in his voice, the playfulness of his suggestive tone.

“I missed that, last time,” Erwin said. “This time, we can -”

He fell silent as the gondolier steered his craft alongside the wooden steps.

The tent-like cabin, made by stretching a thick black cloth over two cane hoops attached to the sides of the boat, contained comfortable cushioned seats and was softly illuminated by the stern lamp outside. As the gondolier rowed the small boat out onto the canal, Erwin led Levi into the cabin, pulled him into his arms and attempted to kiss him. Their masks clashed together. Levi gave a shaky laugh, and removed Erwin’s elaborate harlequin mask, while Erwin unfastened the ribbons that tied Levi’s disguise in place. Levi kissed Erwin with such desperation that Erwin laughed softly when he pulled away at last. “Levi!” he said. “What is it?” He looked suddenly doubtful. “You’re not with someone are you? I’m unattached – I have money, and a house here in Venice…”

“I’m not with anyone, no,” Levi replied.

Erwin relaxed. “Then this is perfect. We have everything we need. I still have my arm. Is your leg okay?”

“Yes, it’s fine.”

“I’ll buy a villa in the countryside. It’ll be safer there; less chance of the plague – less disease in general. We could plant a vineyard.”

“That – sounds good.”

“It will be.” Erwin lay back on the cushions and pulled Levi gently down on top of him. He stroked Levi’s cheek with his right hand. Levi turned his head and kissed Erwin’s palm, frowning at the feeling of uneven skin under his lips. Erwin smiled, opening his hand flat, revealing a long scar. “I got that in a fight when I was eighteen,” he said. “Funny – it’s exactly where the other one was, remember? From the time I pushed your blade aside when you tried to kill -”

“I remember,” Levi interrupted, his voice hoarse. “Don’t – Can we not talk about that, now?”

“Levi?”

“We’ve had some good lives, haven’t we? The last two…”

“Yes, they were good lives.” Mindful of the gondolier beyond the black cloth walls, Erwin lowered his voice, his mouth against Levi’s ear - “But, Levi, after last time, I can’t wait –”

“Wait for a while,” Levi said, resting his head on Erwin’s chest. “There’s time. And even – even when there isn’t, there will be other lives.”

“Unless this is the last time,” Erwin said: their old ritual. Levi forced himself to smile. “Tch. You always say that.”

“I know. And _you_ always say _that_. We’re getting predictable, aren’t we?”

Levi didn’t answer. He lay against Erwin’s chest and listened to the strong, regular beating of his heart. Could the poison have been defective? Was a miracle possible?

Erwin stroked Levi’s hair. Levi closed his eyes and tried to pray to a god he didn’t think he believed in.

 _Please_ –

He was counting heartbeats, quietly desperate, knowing, really, that it was only a matter of time. Erwin’s hand stilled on the back of his head; fell away.

“I think that wine – m - must have been stronger than I thought.”

Levi’s eyes opened. He sat up abruptly.

“I feel so dizzy,” Erwin said. “But I wanted –”

“Later. Rest, for now.” Levi moved his hand to his hip slowly, trying not to alert Erwin, or make his vertigo worse. He leaned down and kissed Erwin carefully. Against his lips, Erwin’s smile was drowsy. “Levi…”

“I love you,” Levi said. “I’m sorry.”

Erwin only gasped, his eyes widening, as Levi’s dagger slid upwards between his ribs, and into his already faltering heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> senza cura - without cure  
> il fato - fate  
> Grazie, mio piccolo corvino - Thank you, my little crow.  
> portego - an open hall in Venetian houses


	7. Senza Cura, Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Venice! Guess where I went on holiday this year? Actually it was Cornwall again, but I do love Venice. 
> 
> Chapter warning - Erwin and Levi finally get it together again. Bottom Erwin, in case that's not your thing (or in case it is!) I think after so many lives together they'd definitely be quite versatile about such things.

Across the gallery, Erwin saw a large crowd gathered around a Canaletto: a view of the Grand Canal and the Church of the Salute. A tour guide was talking in Italian, in a low yet carrying voice that Erwin instantly liked, but the speaker was hidden from view by his attentive audience. He must be an unusually engaging guide, Erwin thought, as the crowd laughed appreciatively at some comment Erwin hadn’t caught. His Italian was improving already after only five days of his trip, and he decided to tag along with the tour to find out how much of the guide’s commentary he could follow.

The crowd moved across the room to another view of Venice, this time by Monet. Erwin caught a glimpse of the guide – a youngish man, probably mid twenties, his dark hair shorn into what Erwin knew from his students was a currently fashionable undercut. The guide was surprisingly short for someone with such a deep voice – and subtly beautiful. Erwin felt his pulse quicken and experienced a moment of automatic guilt for even _looking_ , given the commitment he’d so recently made to Magda and her kids. But there was something about this man...

Luca sensed someone watching him. Of course everyone in the tour group was watching him when they weren’t focussed on the paintings – but that was what they were supposed to be doing. This was different. This made Luca’s skin prickle with a familiar kind of excitement. He kept talking, reciting his usual script, as he scanned the crowd.

Huh, yeah. Big blond guy at the back, eyes sliding guiltily back to the painting as soon as Luca looked in his direction - like he gave a fuck about Impressionist views of Venice. English, American or German, most likely. Not part of the original group, because Luca would have noticed - would most _definitely_ have noticed.

_Hey, fucker, look at me, you big dumb hot piece of ass. Yeah, that’s it… over here –_

Oh. Fuck.

People in the crowd turned to stare at Erwin, following the direction of Levi’s shocked gaze, wondering what had stopped their guide mid-sentence, half way through a well-rehearsed explanation of the Impressionists’ fascination with the effects of light on water.

Levi recovered first. “Sei venuto dall'ospedale?” he prompted. Erwin, as ever, was quick on the uptake. Not trusting his tourist’s Italian to allow him to pass as some kind of official messenger or family friend, he inclined his head gravely. Levi didn’t have to act his flustered state. He scanned the faces of his tour group in effectively simulated helpless appeal. “- E' un'emergenza…”

Most of the people in the tour party nodded sympathetically. A woman near the front put her hand on Levi’s arm. “Vai, vai - non preoccuparti per noi.”

Levi squeezed her hand gratefully, and moved towards Erwin, who turned and walked out of the room with a confident stride, as though he knew exactly where he was going. Levi followed him. As soon as they were out of sight of the tour party, Levi grabbed Erwin’s arm, dragged him into a side corridor, up a short flight of wide stone steps, and through a heavy fire door marked _vietato entrare._

“An emergency at the hospital?” Erwin asked, shaking his head in mock disapproval, as Levi led him along a narrow hallway and opened another door. “Levi, that’s -”

“I know; I’ll burn in hell. Tch - like _that’s_ news to anyone. It was all I could think of. In here.”

Erwin followed Levi into a high-ceilinged, sunlit room with long windows looking out onto a small canal. Canvasses were piled against one wall next to a sink full of glass jars and paintbrushes, and empty easels stood in a half circle facing a low bed draped with a white sheet, three or four pillows scattered on top. With his usual deceptive strength Levi shoved Erwin up against the door, dragging his head down with both hands to pull him into a fierce kiss. Erwin hesitated for less than a heartbeat before he gave in, all thoughts of his present life’s commitments, cares and duties cast aside for this– for Levi pressed hard against him, Levi breathless from kissing him, Levi at this moment; perfect, and alive, and _his_.

Levi had already somehow shrugged out of his elegant black jacket, and was feverishly unbuttoning the front of Erwin’s hideous blue-and-white-checked shirt. Erwin ran his hands up underneath Levi’s pristine white t-shirt, exploring the ridges and furrows of hard, well-trained muscle.

“God, Levi,” he murmured, sinking to his knees, as Levi pushed his shirt over his shoulders. Erwin let go of Levi one hand at a time to rid himself of his shirt completely, while Levi stripped off his t-shirt in one sinuous motion, letting it fall to the floor, unregarded. Erwin kissed the smooth, clean-smelling skin of Levi’s abdomen, both hands busy unbuckling Levi’s belt. Levi raked his fingers through Erwin’s blond hair, and cursed softly when Erwin pulled off the belt, unzipped his jeans, pushed them down his thighs without ceremony, and licked his already hard cock from base to tip.

“Fuck, Erwin – you don’t know how much I missed this!” Levi’s voice was thick with lust as Erwin sucked him with a desperate greed. For a while the sunlit room was silent apart from the wet sounds of Erwin’s mouth on Levi, and Levi’s fractured breathing. Erwin grasped Levi’s ass, pulling him closer, trying to take Levi deeper. Levi moaned then, shamelessly loud, torn between letting Erwin continue, in which case he knew he wasn’t going to last long, and moving on to - other things he’d missed. That thought decided him. “H – hey, Erwin - hold on.” Erwin let Levi’s cock slide out of his mouth, his smug expression and swollen lips making him look so debauched that Levi nearly lost it there and then.

“What do you have in mind?” Erwin asked, his eyebrows lifting suggestively. Levi took a breath to steady himself. “I want you,” he said. “I want to fuck you. After last time – the time before last, I mean, when I couldn’t –”

Erwin looked around the room. “Yeah – good – but what are we going to use –”

Levi looked away. “In my jacket –”

“Right.”

“I get – I _got_ – a lot of opportunities, so…”

“It’s okay, Levi.” Erwin got to his feet, trying not to let Levi see how stiff his knees were from kneeling on the marble floor, wondering about the age difference between them this time. Levi didn’t seem to mind it, but Erwin was more aware that usual that he was approaching middle age, in a body that had never had the benefit of constant training with the manoeuvre gear, while Levi was twenty-five at most, with a body that was just – well - _glorious_ was the word that came to mind.

“You’re so beautiful,” Erwin said, running his hands over Levi’s chest, experiencing a stab of possessive desire even as he added, “It’s not surprising you get a lot of offers.”

“No one who matters,” Levi said firmly. “I always kept it casual. Never really knew why, until now. Cesare always says I’m allergic to commitment, but –”

“Cesare?”

Levi shook his head, smiling. “He’s a _friend_. Shit, Erwin…”

“I’m sorry. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, but the thought of you with other people –”

“Tch. _You’re_ the one who’s usually married, or some shit like that.” Levi wished he hadn’t spoken when he saw the pained look that crossed Erwin’s face. “Oh, god. No - don’t tell me, not yet. I just want to fuck you, Erwin - _now_. Okay?”

“Yes.” Whatever his misgivings, Erwin found that they vanished as soon as he looked at Levi. “Yes. That’s – very much okay.”

Levi laughed softly, the pure lust in the sound sending blood surging straight to Erwin’s dick. Without warning Levi practically vaulted into Erwin’s arms, wrapping his strong thighs around his hips, grinding hard against his cock, his own, still wet and shining with Erwin’s saliva, protruding from his open jeans and pressing against Erwin’s stomach. Erwin gripped Levi’s ass with both hands and kissed him until they were gasping. Holding onto Erwin one-handed, Levi leaned backwards and snagged his jacket off the floor.

“Fuck,” Erwin grunted, relishing the feeling of Levi’s solid weight in his arms while wondering how it still managed to surprise him after all this time – “I always forget how flexible you are!”

“Bed,” Levi said, jerking his chin towards the sheet-draped divan in the middle of the room.

Erwin laid Levi on the bed and watched appreciatively as he wriggled out of his jeans and underwear. He managed to lose his shoes and socks in the process, dropping everything on the floor with uncharacteristic abandon, apart from his jacket, which he kept close at hand.

“Look at you,” Erwin murmured, doing just that.

With anyone else, Levi would have rolled his eyes at such a blatant expression of longing, but under Erwin’s gaze he felt heat build under his skin. “Shit, Erwin - don’t just _look_!”

Erwin kicked off his shoes and peeled off his trousers, underwear, and socks in one go, hoping that he wouldn’t see disappointment in Levi’s eyes when he took in the less-than-honed condition of his body. Levi was only looking in one place though, and he seemed perfectly satisfied with _that_. “Fuck, I’ve missed you.”

Erwin sat on the edge of the bed, with a little huff of feigned irritation. “Are you talking to me, or my dick?”

Levi grinned. “Both.” He shuddered, though, as Erwin turned to drop an almost chaste kiss on the head of his cock.

“Huh. Well, I’ve missed _you_ , too.”

As Erwin sat up again, Levi got to his knees behind him, wrapped his arms around Erwin’s chest and kissed the nape of his neck. Erwin could feel the heat of Levi’s cock pressing against his back.

“Funny how much you can miss someone, even when you don’t know they exist,” Levi said, his lips against Erwin’s ear. He licked the soft skin of Erwin’s earlobe; bit down gently. Erwin hissed. Levi laughed, throaty and low. “ _Fuck_ , I want you.” Erwin’s eyes widened as Levi’s hand slipped around to massage his cock, his fingers already slippery with lube.

“Hey – how -?”

“In my jacket, like I said.”

“But how did you get it open so quickly without me even noticing?”

“How many times have I been a pickpocket, or an assassin? I was even a juggler, once. I’ve always been good with my hands.”

“Yes,” Erwin agreed, arching back against Levi as Levi’s supple fingers slipped between his thighs and stroked his balls lightly – “Yes, you have – ah, Levi!”

“Lie on the bed,” Levi said, moving aside to make room. Erwin obeyed, lifting his hips so that Levi could slide one of the pillows underneath him. “This okay?” Levi asked. “You can turn around if it’s more comfortable, but I’d prefer to look at you.”

“I want to look at you, too. Like this is good. It’s been so long since I felt you inside me.”

“Yeah – too long.” Levi lay next to Erwin and kissed his stomach before taking his cock in his mouth and sucking gently. His slick fingers trailed up the insides of Erwin’s thighs again as he pressed his tongue against the head of Erwin’s cock, enjoying the familiar taste of his skin. Erwin gave a soft moan as Levi teased his hole with one finger and pushed inside, his mouth still busy on Erwin’s dick. Erwin gripped the sheet beneath him hard as Levi worked him open, wondering how long he’d manage to last when Levi was already making him feel so good – so close to the edge. Levi took his mouth and his hand away in the nick of time, moving to kneel between Erwin’s spread thighs. Erwin watched, breathless and desperate, as Levi reached back for his jacket, took a condom out of the pocket, and tore the packet open with his teeth. Rolling the condom on with practiced ease, Levi bent down to give Erwin’s cock a final, lascivious lick. He looked along the length of Erwin’s body and up into his blue eyes, thrilling at the need he saw there. “Yeah?” he asked.

“Fuck – _yes_ , Levi!”

Erwin drew up his knees as Levi pushed into him, their bodies so well known to each other that they moved with automatic synchronicity. Levi closed his eyes briefly, not moving, almost overwhelmed by the breathless pleasure of being inside Erwin after so long. Erwin reached to touch his face. “Levi…”

“Yeah.” Levi opened his eyes, and looked down into Erwin’s for a long, still moment, neither of them thinking anything beyond their awareness of each other. Then Levi began to thrust with all the controlled power of his strong, compact body, and Erwin shuddered, sweat beading on his forehead, at the sheer intensity of the sensation. Levi’s lips parted, a faint flush colouring his cheeks at the sight of the naked hunger in Erwin’s eyes.

Levi was strong enough, and Erwin, even in this body, flexible enough, that the difference in their heights didn’t prevent them from kissing as they fucked, their bodies rocking together and apart, their kisses hard and deep. With the memories of the combined spans of this life and the last separating them from the last time they had been together like this, their desire for each other was too intense for either of them to be able to draw out the experience. Erwin moaned into Levi’s mouth, his body jerking and tensing as he came from the feeling of Levi inside him, and the pressure of the hard muscles of Levi’s stomach against his cock. Levi thrusts became erratic and his kisses frantic, his control breaking down at the sensation of Erwin’s body tightening around him, shuddering beneath him. He came suddenly, Erwin’s name torn from him with the force of his orgasm.

They kissed again, more gently, sated and grateful. Levi rolled off Erwin, and lay beside him, his eyes already closing. Erwin’s fingers were warm against Levi’s thigh – all the contact they needed now. For a while they drifted peacefully, breathing in the familiar scents of each other.

“Mmm,” Erwin murmured at last, opening his eyes and turning his head to look at Levi. “I’d forgotten how much I like it that way.”

“Yeah – it’s good. Any way with you is good, though.”

“Hm.” Erwin closed his eyes again, profoundly relaxed in a way he only ever felt with Levi. The sun was very warm on his bare skin. He allowed himself to doze for a moment longer, perfectly content in the awareness of Levi’s presence at his side. He woke abruptly when Levi jabbed a finger into his stomach.

“Ow!”

“You don’t work out so much in this life, do you?”

Erwin actually looked embarrassed. “I don’t have much time for the gym, no. I try to go running, but –”

“It’s not bad, actually,” Levi said. “You know - for someone your age. It suits you. Can’t wait to feel the impact of that extra weight when you fuck me.”

Erwin groaned. “Wonderful. So, apart from thinking I’m fat and ageing –”

Levi scoffed. “I never said that, you paranoid bastard. Didn’t you hear the part about how much I want you to fuck me? Anyway, you always look good, and you know it.” He closed his eyes and stretched, his back arching off the bed, little ripples of light and shadow reflected by the sunlight on the water of the canal dancing over his flawless skin. Erwin couldn’t help trailing his fingers along the beautiful curve of Levi’s throat and down the centre of his chest.

“Ah, fuck, don’t,” Levi said, shivering at Erwin’s touch. He opened his eyes and sat up. “Don’t get me all worked up again until we find somewhere to go. We can’t stay here – there’s a life drawing class in a couple of hours. Although that’ll probably have to be cancelled now.”

“Because of the mess we’ve made?” Erwin asked, not sounding remotely guilty.

“No – because I’m the model.” Levi scoffed when Erwin’s eyes widened. “What? It pays as well as the tour guiding, and all I have to do is keep still.”

“I was just surprised. I wasn’t being judgemental.”

“No, I know, pervert.” Levi poked Erwin’s stomach again. “You were wondering where to sign up.”

Erwin laughed. “It’s tempting. But I think I’d rather have you to myself. We can go to my hotel.”

“You’re here alone?”

There was a brief hesitation before Erwin replied. “Yes.”

“Shit, I knew it. It’s complicated again, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid so. There’s a wo –”

Levi clapped his hand over Erwin’s mouth. “Shut up. I still don’t want to know anything – not yet.” Levi removed his hand. “How long are you here for?”

Erwin sighed and sat up. “Another nine days.”

“And you’ll be on your own the whole time?”

“Yes. But after that – I’ll have to go back to Frankfurt.”

“Yeah – well, we can talk about that in nine days. Until then, it’s just you and me. Come on – we’d better clean up and get dressed. Thank god there’s a sink in here. Might even be soap, I think. Where’s your hotel?”

“Not far. We can catch a vaporetto and be there in twenty minutes.”

It was only when they were on their way out of the room, Levi wearing sunglasses and carrying his jacket over his arm in an attempt to avoid being noticed by any of his colleagues, that they realised it hadn’t crossed either of their minds to lock the door.

 

They stood together by the stern rail as the waterbus made its way along the Grand Canal. Erwin put his hand beside Levi’s on the rail, their fingers just touching. Levi looked up at him. “You haven’t asked – about last time. I’m surprised you didn’t run when you saw me!”

“I assume there was a good reason. Levi – if we can’t trust each other by now –”

“I trust you. I always trust you. And, yeah, there was a reason. You were going to die. You’d been poisoned.”

“Ah. I remember feeling strange.”

“It would have been… bad.”

“Then I’m glad you killed me. It didn’t hurt much at all, as far as I remember – it’s a little hazy. You must have been quick – and accurate as ever. How did you know I’d been poisoned?”

Levi bit his lip, but didn’t look away. “I’m the one who did it.”

Erwin only nodded. “I see. Not that it matters any more, but was it personal?”

“No. I was an assassin. It was some cardinal who paid me. I never even knew his name.”

“I can guess. Hm – I should have seen that coming. Always so much political manoeuvring!”

“I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t know.”

“No, but I didn’t care, either. I had no conscience. I hated the life I was given, so I wanted to drag everyone else down to my level. I do that so often, don’t I? It’s what Farlan tried to tell me, the first time. I tend to live like that, until you turn up and show me different. Why can’t I see for myself that there are other choices?”

Erwin shook his head. “You don’t choose where you come from. In a lot of lives you seem to get treated very badly during your childhood. I suppose that makes it much harder to pick a moral path. But you’ve made good more often than you’ve gone bad. And I’ve had plenty of lives where I’ve done evil things, including that last one. Why do you think they wanted me dead? Look, Levi –”

Levi sighed. “No, I know. We’ve had this conversation over centuries. It’s just – that last one was hard. I hate it when I find you and lose you so soon. And – like _that_ …”

“What did you do – after?”

“Killed myself with the same dagger,” said Levi, as though it were the only possible answer. “Your gondolier must have had a shock when he found us, poor bastard.”

Erwin smiled grimly. “Not as much as you might think. He wasn’t only a gondolier. He was used to the sight of blood - it was that kind of a world. I wonder what story they came up with to explain our deaths? Assassination, or a robbery gone wrong?”

“Or a romantic tragedy,” Levi said, only half joking. “Your sword was unblooded, after all. And I did die pretty much on top of you.”

Erwin raised his eyebrows. “‘Thus, with a kiss, I die’? Were those your last words?”

“Huh. No. I think it was more like, ‘Ah – shit’. It fucking hurt.”

“Really romantic, then.”

“Yeah.”

Erwin moved his hand to cover Levi’s. “We can make up for that, now.”

“I thought things were complicated again?”

“They are. But, as you said, we have nine days before we have to think about that.”

“It’s more than we had last time,” Levi replied. “Even if it’s all we get, I’ll take it.”

“It won’t be all we get. I’ll make sure –”

“Not now,” Levi reminded him. “Later.”

“As long as you promise that you won’t run.”

Levi looked up at Erwin, his small smile more resigned than bitter. “No, I won’t run. It never works. And – I’ve had enough of running. If we have to compromise, that’s what we’ll do. Just - not yet. Not for the next nine days.”

They fell silent looking back along the Grand Canal.

Erwin took Levi’s hand, careless of the scandalised looks of one or two of their fellow passengers. “Hasn’t changed much in five hundred years, has it?”

“Not much,” Levi agreed.

They stood together, watching the receding view –water buses and gondolas - the facades of the great houses – the vivid blue of the sky. The colours glowed, vibrant and clear as a Canaletto painting, the afternoon sunlight very bright on the water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sei venuto dall'ospedale? - Have you come from the hospital?  
> E' un'emergenza - It's an emergency.  
> Vai, vai - non preoccuparti per noi - Go, go - don't worry about us.  
> vietato entrare - no entry.


	8. Parallel Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> World War Two this time - East End evacuee Lenny finds himself staying with a country doctor and his son, Irvin... 
> 
> Or: Erwin and Levi play Monopoly!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it's been so long since I updated this story. I expect a lot of readers will have moved on to other fandoms, but thank you for all the lovely comments on this story, and special thanks to anyone who is still reading it and is still in love with Eruri. 
> 
> This chapter got very long - I could spend forever writing about Levi and Erwin as children. It was inspired by Aileine's art of Erwin and Levi meeting at a young age which really got me thinking about the mechanics of this story, and how the recognition between them works - thank you, Aileine! I will be writing a chapter in the future where they actually remember at that stage. This time I really wanted to write about both of them as children, and Levi's relationship with his mother, and Erwin's with his father, especially in the light of recent chapters in the manga.
> 
> In 1939 thousands of children were evacuated from cities in Britain to the countryside because of the fear of bombing. When not many bombs fell in the first few months of the war, a lot of them went home...

“’Urry up Lenny, you’ll miss the bleedin’ train!”

“Let ’im alone Stan – ‘e’s only got little legs bless ’im.”

Lenny looked up at his mother, smart in the often-mended red coat that matched her lipstick, and the pillbox hat pinned carefully to her shining black hair. Her high heels clicked on the cobbles. Lenny held on tight to her hand and ran a few steps to keep up, the new shoes Stan had got from somewhere or other pinching his feet, and the gasmask in its square cardboard box bumping at his side.

“Looks a picture, don’t ’e?” Stan grinned, glancing briefly down at Lenny. “Looks a right little toff in that clobber.”

“You do look after us, Stan,” Ma replied with a small smile. Lenny scowled, mistrusting her subdued tone and Stan’s unusual good mood.

“As for where these came from - ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies,”Stan had said with a wink when he’d arrived last night with the shoes, and a very large, slightly bobbly green knitted pullover, and a brown coat – good cloth and double-breasted, only a couple of sizes too big.

Ma had kissed Stan, and later on they’d gone behind the curtain to Ma’s bed and made the noises. Lenny had slept on the good armchair with the new coat over him - a much warmer covering than he was used to on the nights when one of the uncles was staying over.

Although he was no good in school, where he spent as much time standing facing the wall as sitting at his desk, Lenny was nobody’s fool: he knew that Stan was only being nice to him because he was glad he would soon be out of the way. He’d overheard Stan and Ma arguing about it days ago – Ma saying weakly, “But what if the bombs _don’t_ come?” and Stan, apparently full of a new-found concern for Lenny’s welfare, replying angrily, “For Christ’s sake woman, do you _want_ ’im blown to bits?” Ma had cried then, and said, “’Course not! I want ’im _safe_ – but whatever will I do without ’im?”

“You’ve got _me_ , ain’t ya?” Stan had answered.

They’d made the noises that night, too.

 

They reached the station just in time. Lenny stared up through the white steam of a departing train at the huge clock suspended from the iron beams of the roof. He tried to remember what they’d said in school about roman numerals: i was one, ii was two, iii was three – easy. And x was ten…

“Oi, Dozy Daydream!” Stan pushed him towards a large group of children and parents, all waiting with bags and suitcases. “That’s your school, ain’t it?”

Lenny recognised a few of the children – Frank Cobb who liked to throw his weight about; freckled Daisy Green; the Miller twins, one short, one tall.

“Yeah, tha’s them.”

Some of the parents were looking over now, their expressions unfriendly. A woman in a tweed suit leaned to murmur something to her neighbour, her narrowed eyes on Ma.

One of the teachers Lenny vaguely recognised called out, “Lenny Akers? Good, you’re the last. Come on lad, look lively!”

Lenny turned to his mother. She knelt and kissed his cheek quickly, smelling of face powder, and the perfume Stan had bought her that made Lenny sneeze. “Be a good boy. Do as you’re told. I’ll see you again soon.”

“ _When_?” Lenny asked, panicked. He felt like crying, but Frank Cobb was watching him. “ _When_ will I see you?”

“Soon,” Ma said, hugging him close.

“Promise?”

“Promise. Go on now.”

Stan handed Lenny the canvass duffle bag packed with his few clothes and, safely hidden at the bottom, the little bear that had been Ma’s mother’s. Lenny took the bag silently and walked towards his classmates.

“Oh – Lenny – don’t forget your sandwiches!” his mother cried. She rushed forward to press the little paper parcel into his hands. Behind him, Lenny heard some of the other kids sniggering, but their amusement was soon forgotten in farewells of their own as the teachers shepherded them along the platform and on to the train that would take them to safety in some distant, unknown part of the country.

As soon as he boarded the carriage Lenny wove deftly between the crowds of children, unencumbered by the large suitcases most of them were struggling with. He found an empty seat, threw down his bag to claim it, and leaned against the window, desperate for a last glimpse of his mother. Most of the parents were next to the train now, peering though the windows in search of their children. For one horrible moment Lenny thought Ma had already gone, but then he spotted her red coat at the back of the crowd. She stood next to Stan, somehow apart from all the other parents. When she caught sight of Lenny she waved, and wiped her eyes, and waved again. Lenny pressed his palms against the cold glass, fighting back threatening tears. The carriage juddered, throwing everyone off balance. As the train pulled away Lenny steadied himself against the window and kept his eyes on his mother’s face; the diminishing patch of red that he knew was her coat; the crowd that had swallowed her up – and then the station was gone from view.

When he finally sat down, Lenny found that the seats around him had been taken by five noisy older girls. Glad that none of them knew him, he sat quietly, playing with the string around the packet of sandwiches his mother had given him, wondering whether they were jam or cheese, and how long it would be before he was allowed to eat them.

 

Lenny opened his eyes and realized that the train had stopped. At first he thought they must have reached another large covered station, but then he saw that the light was only dim because it was raining.

“Where are we?” he asked, blinking away sleep.

“Dunno,” the girl next to him said cheerfully, running a hand through her short, wavy, white-blonde hair. “Somewhere well away from London, anyhow. Lots of fields all around. We saw ’orses, an’ even cows!”

“What was they like?”

“Big as anythin’, all white ’n’ brown like in picture books.”

Lenny remembered a poster at school with pictures of cows on. He nodded. “We gettin’ out now then?”

“I reckon we’re changin’ trains,” the girl explained, looking at Lenny not unkindly. “We got a bit further to go yet.”

A teacher Lenny had never seen before came to usher everyone out of the carriage. Lenny picked up his duffle bag and followed the girls onto a platform. He gave a low whistle when he got a glimpse of the engine that had been pulling the train, and wandered a little way down the platform for a better look. The bright green livery shone in the rain, the letters LNER, for London and North Eastern Railways, proudly displayed along the side of the tender - but it was the sheer size of the machine that impressed Lenny most – the great boiler, the huge green-painted wheels and the massive pistons. He was about to walk further along the platform to have a look at the engine from the front, when a cloud of steam puffed out of the funnel and, with squeals and clanks, the train began to pull out of the station.

Lenny watched it go, then rejoined the group of children waiting on the platform. He spotted the five girls from the first train and wandered over to them. No one from his class seemed to be near by, which was only a relief. After a long, wet wait, another train arrived – smaller this time, with fewer carriages. Lenny followed the girls on board, but when he went to sit down one of them gave him a disdainful look. “Oi – ain’t you got your own friends, Pipsqueak?”

Lenny shook his head.

“Well, there’s no wonder, if you ain’t got nothin’ to say for yerself! Look, there’s a free seat over there –”

“Nah, ’e’s all right, Alice. ’E’s quiet, anyway.” The girl who had spoken to him first ruffled his hair. “You can sit next to me if you want. What’s yer name?”

“Lenny.”

“I’m Nan. ’Ow old are ya?”

“Seven. Eight at Christmas.”

“I’m eleven. You’re small for seven. I shouldn’t like a birthday at Christmas. Only one party!”

Lenny didn’t have anything to say to that, since Ma never did anything for Christmas, and he’d never had a party. There was always a birthday card though – a shop-bought card if Ma was feeling flush, homemade if not. And usually there was cake…

Nan chattered away, pointing out occasional cows and sheep in the flat fields, and telling Lenny about her family: three older sisters still in London, one brother in the navy, and another working on the docks. After a while Lenny opened his sandwiches, which turned out to be two cheese and two jam, and offered one to Nan, but she shook her head. “You ’ave ’em. You need ’em by the look of you.”

Lenny ate two of the sandwiches slowly – one cheese, one jam - savouring every bite. Ma must have got the jam specially – it was rare that they had it at home. He folded the brown paper neatly around the remaining two sandwiches and retied the string.

“Savin’ ’em for later? That’s the way to make ’em last!” Nan said.

Lenny decided that, apart from Ma, Nan was the nicest person he’d ever met.

 

Lenny must have dozed again, because when he opened his eyes the train was pulling into a tiny station – just one short platform and a low, red-tiled building that was ticket office and waiting room in one.

“Reckon this is it,” Nan pronounced.

“Yer what?” Lenny asked.

“Reckon we’re ’ere.”

“Where’s that, then?”

“Dunno. Ain’t Bethnal Green, anyway.”

Lenny wondered what Ma was doing now. Probably behind the curtain with Stan - but she wouldn’t have to draw the curtain anymore, would she?

 

The children lined up on the platform for a headcount, but something seemed to be wrong, because the teachers were looking worried and counting again and again. Lenny yawned and wondered when the rain would stop. At least the coat Stan had got for him was warm.

Nan nudged him. “Oi, Lenny – ya need yer identity card.”

Lenny fished the card out of his pocket, and presented it to a flustered-looking young teacher when she demanded it.

“Akers? … No, we don’t have an Akers on the list! What school are you from, Lenny?”

“Queen’s Road,” Lenny said, beginning to realise that he might be in some kind of trouble.

“Good lord boy! You were supposed to stay on the train at Ipswich!”

“Didn’t know,” Lenny mumbled.

“No, well that’s as maybe, but what on earth are we going to do with you?” The teacher sighed with exasperation but no real anger. Lenny, expecting at least a cuff around the head, gazed at her in surprise.

“Oh, well, I suppose we’ll just have to get you billeted for tonight, and sort it out in the morning! I’d better try to send a telegram –” The teacher went to discuss the situation with some other adults. Nan gawped at Lenny, impressed. “’Ow d’yer manage that then? Didn’t yer notice that no one from your school was gettin’ off the train?”

Lenny shook his head and bit his lip hard.

“Well, never mind. Ain’t none of us got a clue where we’ll end up anyway, so I reckon we’re all in the same boat. You stick with me ’til they find us somewhere to stay.”

Lenny nodded, grateful to Nan and ashamed of his stupidity.

 

There was a walk of about a mile down a narrow road from the station into the village, and then the children were taken into a village hall where welcome cups of tea and pewter mugs of water were available. Lenny picked up one of the green teacups carefully, holding it by the rim. Nan, gulping water next to him, paused to laugh. “Why d’yer ’old it all cack ’anded like that?”

“’Case the ’andle comes off,” Lenny told her solemnly. “They do that, sometimes.”

“You’re a rum ’un an’ no mistake,” Nan said, but she said it kindly.

 

In one corner of the hall wheeled metal frames covered with green cloth had been used to divide the room into two sections.

“Boys this side, girls that,” a tall male teacher instructed, pointing his long arms like a semaphore machine. Lenny moved to the boys’ side reluctantly, glancing at Nan. She gave him a reassuring smile.

Behind the screens were more screens and a brisk woman in a blue uniform who told the boys to strip to their underwear and then form another queue. Lenny folded his clothes into a neat pile as he took them off, put his gasmask on top of it, and followed two much taller boys to the next queue, shivering in the cold air. Behind the next screen a bearded man in rolled up shirtsleeves told Lenny to put his clothes on a canvass chair and then stand on some scales. Another woman in blue wrote down his weight and guided him to stand against a measuring chart pinned to the wall.

“What’s your name lad?” the bearded man asked.

“Lenny. Lenny Ackers.”

“Ah yes – you’re the boy who got off the train. That explains… Hmm. How old are you?”

“Seven.” Lenny wanted to wipe his nose, but his handkerchief was in the pocket of his coat. He tried to sniff quietly.

“You’re underweight,” the man said crossly, as though it was Lenny’s fault. “Undersized. It’s a disgrace, in this day and age…”

Lenny wasn’t sure if he was supposed to say anything so he kept quiet. The woman told him to sit on a stool and searched through his hair with a sharp metal comb that tugged and scratched. Lenny tried not to squirm. After a thorough examination that left his scalp tingling, the woman said in an obviously surprised voice, “No – no nits. No sign of fleas. Quite clean overall, considering.”

“Considerin’ _what_?” Lenny couldn’t help demanding. “’ _Course_ I’m clean. We go to the bath ’ouse every week regular.”

“Well that’s good,” the woman said. She glanced at the man. “I only wish half the mothers were so meticulous.”

“It would certainly make our job easier,” the man sighed. He waved one hand at Lenny. “Go on, lad. Go and get dressed.”

When he was clothed again, glad of the warmth, Lenny had to go back into the hall and sit on a chair against the wall. He looked around for Nan, but several of the children seemed to have disappeared, and he couldn’t see her. The girl called Alice was still in the room, but she didn’t look at him. There were a lot of adults in the hall now, walking slowly around, looking at the children ranged along the walls. A very tall man with sandy hair and a kind face stopped in front of two big boys – brothers by the look of them – who were sitting near Lenny.

“Albert and Paul,” the man read aloud, stooping to peer at their name labels. Lenny looked down at his own label, trying to make out the letters of his name upside down. He knew how to write his name, but not well, so Stan had done it for him, laughing at him for being so slow in school.

“How would you like to live on a farm for a while?” the tall man was asking the brothers. “I’ve a son just between your ages, I should think.”

“Yeah, if you can take us both, Mister,” Albert said, nodding frantically. “Me Ma said as ’ow we oughta try an’ stay together.”

“Come along then, lads,” the tall man said. The brothers picked up their suitcases and followed him out of the hall. Lenny watched them go. Ma had explained that someone in the country would take him in and keep him safe from bombs, but he hadn’t expected that it would be like this – that he’d need to be _chosen_. The man with the beard behind the screens had called him a disgrace – said he was underweight and undersized. What if no one wanted him?

People passed, women and men, but few of them spared him a glance. He shrank into the too-big coat, clutching his gasmask, frowning.

“Dark as a gypsy,” one woman said, shaking her head as she passed him. “Foreign blood, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Poor little mite,” her companion whispered. “Not a scrap of meat on him. No good to the farmers. I’d… But I’m looking for girls.”

Gradually the hall emptied until the only adults left were the teachers from the train, two worried looking organizers from the village, and an elderly woman in overalls who was busy washing cups. Across from Lenny was a group of four girls, two of them with their hair cropped so short their scalps were visible and tear tracks on their dirty faces. Their oldest sister looked about thirteen and was sitting very upright, chin jutting determinedly. Lenny had seen her shake her head several times when people had stopped to speak to her, and he’d overheard her saying loudly, “All of us, or none.” But who would take four filthy-looking children when two had obviously been found with nits?

“Dr. Smith promised to take two,” one of the organisers was saying. “And Molly Reeves, the midwife, has a big spare room. I wonder what’s keeping them?”

“Oi ’spec tha’s ’cause Doc’s bin called to that thar Bessie Chapman,” the woman washing cups replied in a strong accent Lenny found hard to follow. “They say as ’as twins. Oi ’spec thas why him ’n Molly both be on the drag.”

“Oh dear,” one of the teachers said, clearly having made more of this news than Lenny had. “What shall we do then? Perhaps –”

She was cut short by the arrival of a curly-haired, bright-eyed young woman in a nurse’s uniform.

“What an evening!” she exclaimed, standing in the doorway to shake raindrops from her folded umbrella. “I’m drenched! Well, Bessie has two daughters, both doing well, and she’s well enough herself all things considered. The doctor will be along shortly.” She looked towards the four girls, then across to Lenny.

“Goodness me! You’ve all had a long day, haven’t you?”

The oldest of the sisters stared at her, defiant. “We ain’t goin’ unless you got room for all four of us. We work ’ard, an’ I can sew, an’ ain’t none of us bed-wetters ’cept Nellie sometimes, but I can wash out ’er things.”

“I see – that’s how it is, hm?”

“Yeah,” said the oldest girl crossing her thin arms firmly in front of her chest. “Tha’s ’ow it is.”

“Well, as long as you don’t mind sharing two to a bed –”

“We don’t! That’s two less ’n normal anyhow. Thanks Missus!”

When the girls had gone the hall was quiet. Lenny swung his legs and listened to the rain drumming on the corrugated iron roof, and tried to pretend that he didn’t mind being last.

It seemed a very long time before the sound of a car’s engine outside signalled the arrival of Dr. Smith. Lenny looked up fearfully and tried to sit up straight so he wouldn’t seem too undersized. Dr. Smith was very tall. After a brief conversation with the teacher at the door, he crossed the hall to where Lenny was sitting. He knelt down and looked into Lenny’s eyes. His smile was kind, and, behind his glasses, his eyes were very blue.

“Lenny, eh?” he asked in a deep voice.

“Yeah,” Lenny managed.

“You’ve had a long wait Old Chap. Sorry about that. Shall we go, now?”

Lenny nodded.

Dr. Smith looked around the hall. “I said I’d take two,” he told the woman with a clipboard by the door.

“Molly took four. Sisters who wouldn’t be split up.”

“Ah,” said Dr. Smith, “that’s like her. He stood up, his knees cracking, and held out his hand. “Shall we go then, Lenny?”

Lenny swung his duffle bag onto his back, hung his gasmask around his neck, and took Dr. Smith’s big hand. “’Ave you got a car?” he asked, wide-eyed.

Dr. Smith smiled. “I have. Doctors need cars out in the sticks like this, to reach all their patients.”

“Ain’t never been in a car,” Lenny said. “What sort is it?”

“Come and see.”

The car was a black Morris 8, gleaming in the rain. Dr. Smith held the passenger door open and Lenny scrambled in, letting his bag fall into the footwell and settling back on the shiny seat. It was very comfortable after sitting for so long on the canvass chair in the village hall.

“I hear you got off the train too early,” Dr. Smith said as the little car pulled away. Lenny hunched his shoulders. “Yeah.”

“Not much fun for you, all on your own.”

Lenny looked at Dr. Smith, amazed to find sympathy where he’d been expecting blame. “There was a nice girl – Nan. But she got chose quick.”

“It must have been strange for all of you. But I hope you’ll enjoy your time here.”

“Where – They didn’t say where we was.”

“Ah – no. And the village signs have been removed in case of invasion. This is Earlingham, in Suffolk. It’s a village – medium sized, I’d say. Quite different from London.”

Lenny remembered something Nan had said. “It ain’t Bethnal Green!”

Dr. Smith laughed. “No, it certainly isn’t Bethnal Green. But there’s plenty to do for a boy your age. Lots of countryside to explore. Irvin will show you around – that’s my so, Irvin. He’s coming up to nine – next month in fact. I hope you like trifle – we always have trifle on his birthday.”

Lenny wasn’t quite sure what _trifle_ might be, so he only nodded vaguely. If it was food, he’d probably like it.

 

In the growing dusk Lenny couldn’t be sure, but when they reached Dr. Smith’s house it seemed to be _pink_. It was a long, low building with small, deep-set windows, and –

“Your ’ouse has hair!” Lenny exclaimed.

Dr. Smith laughed again. “Thatch,” he said. “It’s made of straw.”

“Don’t the rain get in?”

“No – it’s very deep, and packed tight. You’ll see in the morning. All right, Lenny, let’s get out of this atrocious weather and give you some tea.”

Leaving the car in a wooden garage at the side of the house, Dr. Smith led the way around to the front where a thin strip of grass and a low white fence separated the house from the road. He opened a green-painted front door and called out, “Irvin! Edith! I’m back!”

A tall woman with her hair pulled back into a rather severe bun appeared in the corridor and looked down at Lenny without any apparent enthusiasm. “I suppose by the time you got there he was all that was left?”

“Edith…” Dr. Smith spoke quietly, but Lenny sensed tension between Dr. Smith and this _Edith_ woman.

“At least they haven’t cut his hair, so I assume he’s clean. What’s your name, boy?”

“Lenny.” He gave Edith the look he usually reserved for Stan. She seemed unfazed.

“Lenny _what_?”

“Lenny Akers.”

“Well, that’s something, anyway. Looking at you, I thought –”

“Edith!” Dr. Smith’s tone was sharp now. “He’s been travelling all day – he had to wait until I got there… Could we have tea now do you think?”

“Well, of course! It’s been ready long enough though – I expect the sandwiches will have curled. I’ll go and put the kettle on.”

There was a thudding from somewhere above them, and then a blond boy who was a younger copy of Dr. Smith came quickly down the stairs. His movements were vigorous, his expression eager, his wide blue eyes friendly beneath thick blond brows. He looked down at Lenny with an older boy’s natural air of superiority, but there was nothing hostile in his gaze. “Hello,” he said, as he reached the bottom of the stairs. “I’m Irvin, with an I and a V. My grandfather was Erwin with an E and a W, but father says people can have trouble pronouncing that properly when they see it written down.” Irvin-with-an-I-and-a-V held out his hand.

Lenny stared at him, wondering what he was supposed to do.

“Now we shake hands, and you tell me _your_ name,” Irvin supplied helpfully.

Lenny took Irvin’s proffered hand and Irvin shook for both of them, his grip firm.

“Lenny,” said Lenny. “…With a L.”

Irvin laughed as if he’d said something funny, then glanced towards the door. “Where’s the other one?”

“Molly took the other four – they were sisters who wanted to stay together,” Dr. Smith explained. “All the other children had been billeted by the time I got there.”

Irvin was obviously trying hard, but Lenny could tell he was disappointed. He remembered the two boys who had been picked by the sandy-haired farmer early on – Albert and Paul. Irvin would have liked them – big boys, his own age.

“I’m nearly eight,” he said, by way of apology.

“ _Are_ you?” Irvin couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice.

“Well, at Christmas, anyway,” Lenny admitted.

“What, on Christmas Day?”

Lenny nodded.

“Gosh. I don’t know if that’s good or bad. I suppose you get a lot of presents?”

Lenny shook his head. “Ma – She makes me a cake, most times.” He had to swallow hard after that, thinking about Ma. Irvin looked at his face and put a hand on his shoulder. “We have cake – Victoria sponge. Come on – tea’s ready, so I’ll just show you where to put your things, and then we can eat.”

Lenny followed Irvin up the narrow stairs to a landing that ran the length of the cottage, three doors leading off it. “This is Father’s room, that one’s mine – and the end one will be yours.”

“What about that woman?”

“Edith? She’s my father’s housekeeper. She lives down the road, thank goodness!”

Lenny couldn’t help a small smile at Irvin’s expression. He wondered if Edith was like ‘Uncle’ Stan – visiting all the time, but never exactly a part of the family. Perhaps Dr. Smith went to her house to do the things Ma and Stan did behind the curtain? Irvin was lucky not to have to listen to that.

“What about your Ma?” Lenny asked.

“I don’t have a mother. She died, when I was born.”

“Oh.” Lenny couldn’t imagine a world without Ma in it, but he offered all the sympathy he could. “I don’t have a Pa. Least, I don’t think so. Dunno.”

“How can you not know?”

“Just – don’t.”

Irvin gave him a puzzled look, but didn’t ask any more questions. He pushed open the door to the end bedroom. “Pick a bed and leave your things on it.”

The space was almost as big as Lenny’s entire two-roomed home. Two single beds with colourful patchwork bedspreads stood on either side of a recessed window, a wooden chest of drawers between them. A large wardrobe stood against the back wall, made of some dark wood with swirling grainy patterns. A colourful rug covered most of the floorboards, but what instantly drew Lenny’s eye was a diecast model on the chest of drawers between the beds.

“That’s a nice boat!”

Irvin couldn’t help the superior look appearing again. “It’s not a boat, it’s a _ship_ ,” he said. “An Amazon Class Destroyer, to be precise.”

Lenny had no reply to that, but he nodded gravely, trying to remember. He put his bag and coat on the left-hand bed. Irvin laughed.

“What?”

“Sorry. It’s just – your pullover is _huge_ on you! Almost down to your knees!” Seeing Lenny’s expression, he added, “But I expect it’s warm, for travelling. I’ll show you the bathroom.”

“You ’ave a _indoor_ bathroom?”

“Yes. I know we’re lucky. Most of my friends have outdoor WCs. It’s nice, having hot water from a tap.”

“They ’ave runnin’ ’ot water at the bath ’ouse,” Lenny said. “It’s my best bit of the week, gettin’ nice an’ clean.”

“You _like_ having baths?” Irvin sounded disbelieving. Lenny nodded.

“Well, we have a bath twice a week and you can wash as much as you like,” Irvin said, leading Lenny back along the corridor and past the stairs to the bathroom. “When you’re ready, come downstairs for tea.”

When Irvin had gone Lenny closed the bathroom door behind him and breathed in the clean smell of soap. He ran a hand along the cool edge of the white enamel bathtub, marvelling at its pristine condition. Even in the public bath house, where the baths were scrubbed every day, the enamel was stained green and rusty brown in places by dripping taps and general use.

Lenny used the toilet, remembering the foul-smelling shared one in the communal yard at home – always filthy, and often blocked. He washed his hands carefully, the big bar of green soap, solid and uncracked, heavy and hard-edged in his grip. There was a mirror above the sink, but it was fixed high on the wall, and it was only by moving a cork-topped stool and climbing on it that Lenny was able to get a look at himself.

 _Undergrown_ , he thought. _Dark as a gypsy,_ that woman had said. Irvin had been surprised that he was as old as seven. He experienced a sudden sharp pang of homesickness and longing for Ma that had the scowling little brat in the mirror grimacing, eyes watering like a baby. Angrily Lenny wiped his eyes, got down from the stool, and washed his face and hands again. They would be waiting for him downstairs, and Ma would want him to be polite.

 

Lenny stopped dead in the parlour doorway, staring, huge-eyed, at the table. On a white lace tablecloth stood two large plates of sandwiches cut into tidy triangles, a green china bowl made to resemble cabbage leaves and filled with salad, a dish of sliced, hardboiled eggs, and a sugar-topped sponge cake, oozing jam. Irvin was already sitting at the table. “Come in, sit down. You’re not the only one who’s had a long day you know! I’m starving!”

Lenny sat on the high-backed chair Irvin had pointed to. Irvin passed him one of the plates of sandwiches. “Help yourself. There’s egg, and cheese, and tongue. We didn’t know what you’d like best, and, of course, we thought there’d be two of you, so there’s plenty now! I hope you like eggs – we keep chickens at the end of the garden.”

Lenny took an egg sandwich, but Irvin kept the plate where it was. “Go on – have another one.”

Lenny took a cheese sandwich and added it to the egg one on his plate, avoiding what Irvin had called ‘tongue’, hoping it wasn’t what it sounded like. He was about to start eating when Edith coughed deliberately. Lenny looked up, startled.

“Haven’t we forgotten something?” Lenny’s blank expression made it clear that he didn’t know what she was talking about. “In _this_ house, we say grace before meals,” Edith explained. “Lenny?”

Lenny stared at her helplessly. Irvin looked at him, and put his hands together in a way Lenny recognized from school. Relieved, he followed suit, rattling out the words the teacher always used, scarcely pausing for breath: “Our father thart’n ’even hello be they name. They kindomcome, they will be done n’earf as it is in ’even. Gi’s this day are daily bread and give us our tresspassis ’n d’liver us from evil, ferthine is the kingdom the power an’ the glory, frever never Amen.”

Dr. Smith only said, “Thank you, Lenny,” but Edith pursed her lips. “Lenny, what do you do at weekends?”

“Dunno. Play out. Keep out the way.”

“So, you don’t go to church?”

“Ma goes to the church ’all sometimes, when there’s a jumble sale ’case she can find some good material to make over.”

“But you don’t go – anywhere else?”

Lenny looked at her. She obviously wanted some definite kind of an answer, but he had no idea what it was that he was expected to say.

“I go to school ’cept when Ma’s sick, and down the market when Ma wants things fetchin’, an’ I bin to the cinema three times…”

“Edith wants to know whether you have a religion,” Dr. Smith explained. “It might make a difference to what we should give you to eat, for example.”

“Oh. No. Ma says we ain’t nothin’ in particular.”

“But – you must be _something_ ,” Edith insisted.

“Dunno.”

“But –”

“Well, I’m sure we can ask your mother about it when she visits,” Dr. Smith interjected quickly, seeing that Lenny’s confusion was about to turn to distress. “Edith, would you pour the tea?”

After that it seemed no more conversation was required of Lenny and he ate hungrily, comforted by the idea that his mother might visit – although how she would afford the train fare he didn’t know. He was too absorbed in eating to notice Edith’s outraged expression when he picked up his teacup in the fashion Nan had called ‘cack-handed’. Irvin watched him, and offered him salad and more sandwiches, and finally cake. Lenny ate the cake very slowly, not quite believing he was getting a second helping of jam in one day, licking every grain of crunchy sugar from his lips. He thought it was the best thing he’d ever eaten – except for Ma’s birthday cakes he emended quickly, guilty at his almost-betrayal.

After tea was finished Irvin stood up and started to clear the table, but his father stopped him. “Not today. You take Lenny off to play for a while. At half past eight you can get ready for bed, and I’ll come up to tuck you in later.”

Irvin grinned at Lenny. “Let’s not hang about in case he changes his mind! Come on!”

Lenny followed Irvin upstairs to a bedroom about the same size as the one he’d left his things in. He looked around, impressed at various models of planes and ships on the chest by the bed and one shelf of a tall bookcase that was otherwise crammed full of books.

“So – what would you like to do?” Irvin asked, full of a satisfying sense of generosity towards this odd little waif his father had brought home. “I’ve got lots of games. Have you ever played Monopoly?”

Lenny shook his head.

“Would you like to? I got it for my seventh birthday – it’s good.”

“All right. What do I do?”

“We have to set up the board first – look…”

Irvin opened a drawer in a cupboard behind Lenny and pulled out a long red and white box. He put the board on the floor and started counting out piles of brightly coloured notes.

“That’s your money,” he said, pointing to a set of notes in front of Lenny. “We both start with the same amount, of course.”

“That – that ain’t _real_ money is it?” Lenny asked.

Irvin laughed. “Don’t be daft!”

Lenny bit his lip. Stan was always saying that. _Don’t be daft, Lenny – Wake up, Lenny – Don’t ya know nothin’ ya scrawny brat?_

Irvin was too absorbed in setting up the game to notice Lenny’s discomfort. “Right, now we pick a counter. You choose.” He held out a handful of little metal objects. Lenny noticed an iron like the ones Ma used at the wash house, a tiny dog, a car, a boat like the model in his room. No, not boat. _Ship_. He hesitated, unwilling to get something else wrong. “I dunno. You pick.”

“You’re the guest – you should choose first.”

“I don’t care.” Lenny hadn’t meant it to sound rude, but he could tell from the way Irvin frowned that it had been. With an obvious effort, Irvin said calmly, “All right then, I’ll be the ship and you be the car. Will that do?”

“Yeah.”

“Now we shake the dice – you can go first.”

Lenny shook the dice. “One an’ two,” he said.  

“So move your counter. Whitechapel Road. Well, you could buy it, but it’s hardly worth it. When you land on a property, you have to decide whether or not to buy it, and then whenever someone lands on it they have to pay you rent. But you want to try to collect the expensive properties, not the cheap ones. Mayfair and Park Lane are the best.”

Lenny didn’t seem to be paying attention. “Whitechapel Road?” he asked, peering at the board, interested. “Whitechapel Road at home?”

“Oh,” said Irvin, colouring slightly, “do you know it?”

“Yeah – it ain’t more ’n a spit from ours, down Vallance Road. I can buy it?”

“Yes – but as I said, you won’t get all that much rent… Still, I suppose it’s good to have several properties.”

“I wanna buy it. ’Ow much?”

Irvin explained, glad that Lenny hadn’t seemed put out by his comments, and the game continued until the grandfather clock in the hall downstairs chimed the half hour. “We’d better get ready for bed,” Irvin said. “We’ll call it a draw.”

“But you’ve got loads more money. Them ’otels you stuck on the reds just about cleared me out! You won fair ’n square.”

“Still, it counts as a draw if we don’t finish,” Irvin said firmly. “Like cricket. You go and get ready for bed – I’ll put the game away. Tomorrow it’s school, but afterwards I’ll show you round the village.”

“Cheers,” Lenny said.

 

When he’d brushed his teeth just like Ma always told him, Lenny undressed down to his underwear and sat on the edge of the beautifully made bed with its thick mattress and freshly laundered sheets. He rummaged in his duffle bag until he found Dubi, the little bear that his unknown grandmother had given to his mother when she was a child, and that had come from a place Ma had only said was ‘a long way away, and a long time ago’. He was just climbing into bed when Dr. Smith knocked on the door.

“Lenny? Can I come in?”

Lenny tucked Dubi right under the covers so he wasn’t visible. “Yeah.”

“How are things?” Dr. Smith asked.

Lenny looked at him. “Yeah, it’s nice ’ere. We played Monopoly. I bought the ’ole of the Whitechapel Road.”

“You know, this matter of you being on the wrong train… I’m sure we could arrange for you to be sent to wherever the rest of your school ended up. Would you like that?”

“I’d rather stay ’ere, if it’s all right by you.”

“Won’t you miss your friends?”

Lenny’s eyebrows contracted into a worried little frown. “Reckon I’ll be all right ’ere.”

Dr. Smith nodded. “Then we’ll see if we can keep you. Is there anything you need?”

“No. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Lenny. Well – goodnight.”

“Night.”

When the lights were out and Dr. Smith had gone, Lenny clutched the bear close, burying his nose in the short fur that smelled of home. “Night Ma,” he whispered. He knew that boys weren’t supposed to cry, but in the darkness he gave in to the huge wave of homesickness that swept over him, trying to be quiet so that no one would know.

 

In his son’s room, Dr. Smith sat on the end of the bed as he did every night unless he’d been called out to a patient. “So, you played Monopoly?”

“Yes. He caught on quite fast, but he’s funny – he reads one die at a time and counts aloud like that – ‘a three and a four’ – ‘a one and a six’. And I had to read all the place names to him – and most of the Chance cards and Community Chests. Do you think he’s really seven?”

“Yes, I’m sure he is, if he says so. Irvin, I know you’ll be kind to him, but please make extra allowances. I don’t think he’s had an easy life.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll look after him.”

“I know you will. You’re a good lad, Irvin.” Dr. Smith stood and bent to ruffle Irvin’s hair. “Good night, son.”

“Good night!”

Irvin fell asleep easily, basking in the warmth of his father’s praise.

*

Irvin didn’t really know why he’d got off the underground at Bethnal Green on his way back from the conference. It wasn’t as though there would be anything left – anything to give him a clue… But it was only one stop before Liverpool Street, and he had a couple of hours to kill before catching the train back to Norfolk.

The weather was unseasonably warm for September, and he stopped in a little park to sit on a bench and enjoy the sunshine. The temptation to buy a packet of cigarettes was strong, but the growing body of evidence of the damage caused by smoking that he’d just been hearing at the conference was enough to make him stick to his resolve. It was surely a doctor’s duty to set a good example to his patients if he could.

Music drifted from a block of flats overlooking the park; a popular song called – _Dream Lover,_ Irvin remembered. _I want a dream lover, so I don’t have to dream alone –_

Well. Perhaps, one day. He tilted the brim of his hat downward to shade his eyes, wondering what he’d expected to find here, remembering a different summer twenty years earlier when his father had brought home a scrawny little evacuee called Lenny Akers –

 _And I killed him_ , Irvin thought. _I almost certainly killed him, and father tried so hard to forgive me, but the disappointment –_

The hard, heavy weight of guilt in his chest when he thought about the foolish if well-intentioned actions of his nine-year-old self never softened or grew any lighter. Little Lenny Akers… The way he’d gradually cast off his wary reserve – the physical daring that had surprised Irvin and the other, bigger boys and won their admiration – his struggles in school and the dogged determination that had taught him to read and write properly. The freedom of that one year together, when they’d all played in the fields and woods: Irvin’s best friend Michael from the farm, with Albert and Paul, the two boys billeted with him; Nan and her friends; Lenny running with them through the wheat, smaller and yet faster and stronger than any of them, laughing as he ran, apparently oblivious to the whispers of some of the adults after that one visit from his mother in her too-bright lipstick and too-high heels.

Oddly, Edith had softened towards Lenny after that. “I suppose it’s hardly _his_ fault,” Irvin had heard her saying to his father, when the beautiful Mrs. Akers had departed.

“Or, from what I’ve seen of real poverty, hers,” his father had replied.

Irvin left the bench and the park behind and walked through the streets of Bethnal Green at random, lost in memories. He knew there was no point looking for the old slum street where Lenny and his mother had lived, destroyed so thoroughly in the war and rebuilt since into the geometric modernity of new American-style blocks of flats.

As it often did, Erwin’s mind took him back to the day he had gone into Lenny’s room without knocking to find him hunched over a letter, his face pale and miserable, all the benefits of sunshine, fresh air and companionship apparently drained out of him. He’d held out the letter to Irvin. “It’s from Stan – Ma’s... friend. He says Ma’s very ill. Says I should come ’ome. There ain’t been much in the way of bombing, he says, far as I can make out. Will you read it, Irvin? I can’t - can’t read all ’is writin’.”

Irvin still recalled every word of that letter: _Come home Lenny. Your Ma’s real sick and she needs you. She won’t tell you to come because she’s scared for you but its safe enuff here. Im no nurse for a sick woman. There hasn’t been no bombs to speak of anyhow. Stan._

Irvin had encouraged Lenny to show the letter to Dr. Smith, who had read it, frowning. “Not a good idea Lenny. There must be an adult who can help your mother – friends perhaps?”

Irvin sighed, remembering the way Lenny had shaken his head, adamant. “No. There ain’t no one. They… They don’t like Ma round our way. Dunno why, but…”

“Things are hotting up, Lenny. I think you should stay here. I’ll write to your mother – see what she has to say, all right?”

“But some others ’ave gone back already! That Alice went last month. And Susan Curtis, and the boy from the post office.”

“Yes, I know. But this quiet time won’t last forever. Let me write to your mother, Lenny.”

So they’d waited for a reply, but nothing had come. Irvin remembered Lenny’s increasingly desperate pleas; his own frustration with what he had viewed then as his father’s excessive caution; his growing determination to help, to do something heroic. The sacrifice of his piggybank, pink shards of pottery on the floorboards; dull brown pennies and shining sixpences. More than enough for a train ticket back to London.

Irvin had carried Lenny’s bag up to the station after school, before his father had got back from his rounds. He’d been sorry to see his friend go, but he’d known with absolute certainly that he was doing the right thing: a noble act like the ones he’d read about in his adventure books. He remembered waving at the departing train, pride in his heart, as he’d delivered Lenny Akers back into the arms of his poor, sick mother – and straight into the first night of the blitz.

 

Vallance Road. Why was that name familiar? Irvin kept walking, barely aware of his surroundings. His father had been more worried than angry – and so terribly disappointed in him that Irvin, who until that moment had been thinking of himself as quite the hero of the hour, had fled sobbing to his room.

“I know you meant to help him,” his father had said, later, when there was still no official news, but pictures of the East End in the papers implied a hell of fire and rubble behind the fighting talk of the propaganda. “I know he wanted to go back for his mother’s sake. But, Irvin, it wasn’t your decision to make. And I’m very sorry – but it seems that in all likelihood the worst has happened. No one’s heard from them. The address we had… Well, there’s not much left of the building he lived in.”

“It was my fault,” Irvin remembered saying. His father had taken him firmly by the shoulders, bending to look into his face. “No, Irvin. It was the bombs that killed them, not you. You made a wrong choice, but you didn’t kill him. Never think that.”

 _It was both, though,_ Irvin thought, turning a corner onto another street. _Me,_ and _the bombs._ And that knowledge had always been there between Irvin and his father, taking the edge off Dr. Smith’s pride in everything else – Irvin’s academic achievements; following his father into the study of medicine… Nothing ever quite made up for that betrayal. Nothing to be done though. Only work – hard work, and the attempt to save lives. Irvin knew himself well enough now to understand that he’d chosen to enter his father’s profession in the quest for some kind of absolution.

Turning off Vallance road, Irvin passed a group of smartly dressed young women and felt their gazes on him as he walked by. Perhaps it was about time he started looking for a wife. That uneasy period during an adolescence scarred by the knowledge of what he’d done to Lenny Akers when he’d started to look at his best friend Michael and feel things he knew he shouldn’t be feeling – surely that had only been a phase? And then Michael had started to spend more and more time with Nan, the evacuee girl who had been kind to Lenny, and the pair of them had suddenly begun to look at him strangely, asking odd questions, and finally keeping their distance… Not a happy time. It had been a relief when his father had taken a new job in Norfolk.

Irvin looked at his watch, wondering vaguely what had happened to Michael and the other Earlingham children. By now most of them would be married – some would have children of their own. Normal lives. The kind of life Irvin knew he ought to want for himself.

He looked at his watch again, having been so lost in his thoughts that he’d failed to register the time when he’d checked before, and realized that if he didn’t hurry he would be late for his train. Looking around him and seeing nothing he recognized, he was about to reach into his coat pocket for his _A to Z_ when he noticed a green and black taxi approaching from the end of the street, its _for hire_ light illuminated. He hailed it on an impulse, deciding it was his best chance of reaching the station on time.

“Where to Gov’ner?” the driver asked as Irvin opened the rear passenger door and climbed in, glad to see that the vehicle was spotless.

“Liverpool Street Station please.”

The driver made a small disbelieving sound.

“Is something wrong?” Irvin asked.

“Nothin’s wrong - but you do know it’s just around the corner don’tcha?”

“Oh – no, I didn’t realise. I lost my way. But I have a train to catch at six, so if you don’t mind –”

“ _I_ don’t mind, Guv. A fare’s a fare.”

Irvin met the driver’s amused gaze in the mirror.

“Shit! Whoa!” Levi’s foot slipped off the brake and the taxi lurched forward. Levi

brought it to a halt, laughing softly. “Erwin. Hope we never meet when one of us is actually driving.”

Erwin’s laugh was shaky. “Yes. That would be unfortunate. – God – Levi!”

Levi slid back the glass partition that divided them, his heart pounding in spite of his assumed nonchalance. Erwin leant forward to kiss him, but Levi pulled back. “Not here. Taxis can be traced. It’s only 1959 Erwin…”

“Yes. I forgot.” He took Levi’s hand instead. “Levi! Last time –”

“I went to Germany, when I didn’t hear from you. – No, don’t worry, I didn’t go to your house. I saw the grave.”

“It was an accident, I think. I remember being in a car… an impact. No one knew about you, so I suppose there was no one who could let you know.”

Levi sighed. “More secrets.” He took a breath, visibly bracing himself. “This time?”

“No, I’m not married. Not with anyone. You?”

Levi shook his head. “No one.”

They looked at each other, almost afraid to believe it.

“And you’re not on the run?” Erwin asked. “Not a taxi driver and bank robber on the side? No complications at all?”

“You make it sound as if I’m always some kind of a criminal,” Levi huffed, but he couldn’t help smiling all the same.

“Not _always_. Sometimes. Quite often…”

“Huh. And I suppose you’re some upstanding pillar of the community, as usual. What is it this time? High Court Judge? Member of Parliament?”

“Just a country doctor,” Erwin said.

“Might’ve known. So you don’t live in London.”

“No – I was here for a medical conference.”

“We’ll go to mine, then. It’s not far.”

“Are you sure you’re fit to drive?”

“Yeah - I’ll manage. Not like this is the first time I’ve met my soul mate from a former life at an unexpected moment...”

“No, I suppose we’re quite the veterans by now.”

“Yeah. Happens all the time…” Levi managed to pull away smoothly enough, but his hands on the steering wheel were still trembling, nonetheless.

 

Levi’s house was a small Edwardian end-of-terrace with a recently built garage in the immaculately kept garden.

“Nice,” Erwin said.

“Yeah – mind if I give you the tour after?” Levi inserted the key in the lock with a glance at Erwin and a raised eyebrow. Erwin laughed. As soon as the door was shut behind them they reached for each other, pressing close, kissing until they were both breathless. Erwin lifted Levi off the ground for an easier angle. Levi returned his kiss, enjoying a rare moment of looking down at Erwin, but then he pulled back, shaking his head, smiling. “Put me down.”

“But –”

Levi kissed Erwin again, briefly, softly. “We’re both undamaged. We’re both youngish. The stairs are steep, and I don’t want to take any risks. If you break an arm – me a leg… If we break our necks… Put me down, Erwin, and come upstairs. We don’t have to rush, this time.”

 

“You went to my grave?” Erwin asked, waking from his usual post-coital doze two hours later.

“Way to dampen the mood,” Levi said, “but, yeah. Thought about following on there and then like that time on the Grand Canal, but too many people would’ve been hurt. Your wife, her kids – Cesare...”

“So what did you do?”

“Went back to Italy.”

“To your ‘friend’?”

“Shit Erwin, seriously? Yeah, to Cesare. And, yeah, we sometimes fucked – after you died. Never, before. I told him about you, you know. The truth, I mean.”

“Hm. How did he take it?”

“How do you think? Told me I was delusional. Said I should see a psychiatrist. He moved on, in the end. Said if all the nonsense I’d been blathering on about all those years _did_ happen to be true, then he wanted to see if there was someone he belonged with, too.”

“And?”

“I don’t know. We lost touch. I – didn’t stay long, after that.”

Erwin drew Levi close. “Maybe this time we’ll have longer.”

“Hope so. Don’t jinx it.”

“I can dream, though, can’t I?”

Levi’s smile wavered. “Your dreams don’t always work out so well for us…”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I wouldn’t have wanted anything else. We tried.”

In the long quiet that followed, Levi closed his eyes, listening to the strong beat of Erwin’s heart, familiar from so many lifetimes.

“What about this life?” Erwin asked. “Where were you born? How old are you, this time?”

“I’m twenty seven. Born half a mile from here. Lived in the East End almost all my life. Missed a lot of school, worked in a whole load of dead-end jobs, then decided to do the Knowledge and became a cabbie three years ago. Hardest mental thing I ever did, learning so many routes and street names, but worth it.”

“What made you decide to do it?”

“Huh. It’s weird. I was evacuated to the countryside during the war – stayed with a doctor and his son. First night there the kid showed me how to play Monopoly, and I suppose the street names always stayed in my head -” He sat up abruptly, staring down at Erwin. “– _Oh_!”

Erwin sat up slowly, eyes on Levi’s. “You bought Whitechapel Road! I was embarrassed because I told you it was too cheap to bother with…”

“Irvin Smith. Even your fucking name was the same! How – Why didn’t I realise?”

“Lenny Akers. _You_. All this time…”

“But that makes no sense. Why didn’t we _know_? Erwin? Shit, Erwin, what’s wrong?”

Erwin dragged the back of his hand across his eyes. “I’m sorry. But - Lenny Akers! I thought you – he – I thought Lenny Akers died in the blitz! The building you lived in -”

“Oh. No. Ma – my mother – moved. That piece of shit Stan walked out when she got sick. The house she moved to was bombed out, too, but we were lucky; we survived. And then she got worse. I lost your address. To tell the truth I never even thought about it, that you’d think I’d been killed. She was so ill, for so long… That year in Suffolk seemed unreal.”

“All this time – I thought I’d killed you!”

“You? How would it have been your fault, even if I had been killed?”

“Because I helped you go back to London!”

Levi shook his head. “It was my idea. I wanted to go back. Erwin – always - your _guilt_ …”

“I’ll have to tell my father. He was so upset about you. He blamed himself, too.”

“I didn’t have a clue. I’m sorry. So your father’s still alive?”

“Yes. He married again – Molly Reeves, our local midwife. Did your mother - ?”

“She got better in the end, thanks to the NHS and antibiotics. She lived in a new flat in Bethnal Green. With neighbours who didn’t know or didn’t remember what she used to do… Some of them would still have judged her, though, if they’d known. She died two years ago.”

“I’m sorry. It’s strange, how patterns keep on repeating. Was she your real mother? From the first life, I mean?”

“I don’t think so. I hardly remember my real mother – or, only flashes, and as an absence, after she was gone - but I don’t think so. Your father?”

“No.” Erwin shook his head. “No, he’s not. But he’s like him, in character. A good man.”

Levi looked up into Erwin’s eyes. “Yeah. He was kind to me. I still don’t get it though. Why didn’t werecognize each other?”

“I don’t know. Another mystery to add to the list! But we’ve never met so young before. Perhaps it has something to do with that?”

“Maybe. Strange, though, to think we were together without knowing it. I would’ve expected to sense _something_ , but – nothing. I didn’t even like you all that much at first.”

Erwin smiled. “Didn’t you? Well, that’s like the first life, then.”

“Huh. No, I _hated_ you then. Or, at least, I convinced myself that was it… This time – well, maybe I thought you weren’t too bad. Better than most of the kids from my school, anyway. But you were a bit of a know-it-all.”

“Well you didn’t exactly make things easy! You hardly spoke – you wouldn’t make decisions –”

“I guess I was afraid of being wrong. You all seemed to understand so much – you, and Michael and –” Levi stopped abruptly, seeing the realisation in Erwin’s eyes, too.

“Mike and Nanaba,” Erwin said.

“Do you know what happened to them?”

“No, but I think they recognized each other.”

“Really? But – if you didn’t even know who _you_ were, then how could you tell that?”

“I couldn’t, then. But now… There was a time – must have been ’42 or ’43 – when Michael – _Mike_ \- and Nan started spending all their free time together. I was jealous, actually. And then, overnight, something changed. They kept on giving me looks; asking odd questions. Yes… Mike even said, “Do you think people can live more than one life?” – Hah. I’d forgotten that! But I didn’t know what they were talking about, and, in the end, they gave up.”

“So they’re like us. Like Nile and Marie. And once they’d found each other again, they recognised you.”

“Yes.”

“We should try to trace them,” Levi said. “Huh. The last life would’ve made that so much easier. Internet would be useful.”

“A lot of things would be useful. Decent coffee shops…”

Levi grinned, glancing at the dressing table. “Effective lube…”

“Same sex marriage.”

Levi looked at Erwin, something suddenly vulnerable in his eyes. “I wonder if we’ll ever end up in a time like that – and both of us the right age, unattached…”

“Well, for now I suppose we’ll just have to improvise.”

“Yeah. As usual. Funny – Mike being your friend, and Nan… Well, Nan I _did_ like from the start.”

Erwin pulled Levi back down and kissed him thoroughly. “But I grew on you.”

Levi considered, trying not to smile. “Maybe.”

“You can never resist me, in the end.”

“Tch. Seems not. However hard I try.”

Erwin raised his eyebrows. “And how _hard_ is that?”

Levi took Erwin’s hand and pulled it down under the sheet. “Hmm. Pretty hard… And… yeah… seems like you’re growing on me again…”

Erwin groaned.

“Was that for the shitty pun, or – ?”

“Bit of both… Ah…”

“You can’t ever resist me, either…”

“No, I can’t… and… don’t want to. – Ah god – Yes - _Levi_!”

*

They met at weekends whenever Erwin wasn’t on call, Erwin catching the train from Norfolk, and Levi grumbling about turning into his private taxi service every time he picked him up from Liverpool Street.

“I have two interesting pieces of news,” Erwin said, getting into the taxi one wet June evening.

“Yeah?” Levi was concentrating on the traffic, but Erwin could tell he was hopeful. “You heard from that practice in Camden?”

“I did. I start in July. Assuming I can find somewhere to stay…”

“Tch,” Levi said, trying to scowl to suppress the stupid grin that threatened to escape his control, “… I might have a spare room you can rent.”

Erwin smiled. “Aren’t you even going to ask for references?”

Levi’s eyes met Erwin’s in the mirror. “No. Guess I’m just idiotic enough to trust you.” He held Erwin’s gaze for a moment, caught by its softness, before returning his attention to the road ahead. After a while he cleared his throat. “So – what’s your other news?” he asked.

“I heard from Mike at last. He’s still in Earlingham, on the farm.”

“With Nanaba?”

“Yes. In my letter to him I reminded him about how he’d once asked me about past lives, and said I had some theories on that topic. I mentioned you as Lenny Akers - said you were alive, and that you were going by Levi now. And I signed myself Erwin, with an E. He took the hint… Hold on, I’ll read you what he says.” Erwin took an envelope from the inside pocket of his coat and opened an often re-folded letter. “He says that he inherited the farm from his father, who was killed in the last year of the war. He asks after you, and then – here… _Nana realized that Lenny was Levi before I did, but he’d already gone back to London before we remembered._ And then there’s this part: _It soon became clear to us that you didn’t know who you were, and we decided it was better to stop asking you questions that must have seemed very strange to you. This has happened to us once before, in a life where we met as children and only recognised each other when we met again years later. This time was different. Nana was just fifteen and I was thirteen and a half. We liked each other, but neither of us remembered anything about our other lives. It happened one evening at the end of a day’s harvesting. Nana was sitting on top of a cart full of hay. I climbed up to join her, looked into her eyes, and we remembered._

Erwin put the letter away. “He goes on to talk about their theories. He thinks we don’t remember, even if we meet, until we reach puberty. He says his voice had recently broken when it happened to them - and Nanaba was fifteen, as he said.”

“Huh. That makes sense I guess. One mystery solved, anyway. Must be weird when it happens that young.”

“Yes.” Erwin sounded wistful, though, when he added, “Although it does mean you’d have the longest possible time together…”

“One thing that doesn’t change whether you live a whole lot of different lives or just one - you never know how long you’ve got,” Levi said. He shook his head, grimacing. “Tch. Ignore me. With luck, we’ll have decades, this time. So – Mike and Nanaba - when are we going to meet them?”

“Next weekend, if that suits you. You can read the whole letter when we get home.”

“Home,” Levi said. “Yeah, that sounds good. It’s been a while since we had somewhere we could call home.”

“Too long,” Erwin replied.

*

Although parts of the line from London had been electrified, the train out to Earlingham was still steam powered. Levi looked at the locomotive with Lenny’s childhood interest as it pulled into Ipswich station. “Nothing like that phase of engineering. The engines that come after this – efficient, but no soul.”

Erwin looked at him fondly. “Cleaner, though. And all this steam… Doesn’t it remind you of the titans? Or - is that part of the attraction?”

Levi opened his mouth to contradict Erwin but closed it again with a little half smile. “Hm. Maybe…”

When they were settled into an otherwise unoccupied eight-seat compartment with the door pulled shut, Erwin asked, “Do you think there’s any going back?”

“I don’t know. We’ve been to overlapping eras before, and never found any trace of our other lives there. And even if we did go back to the first time and remembered everything – even then, would we be able to change the outcome?”

“We could try.”

Levi nodded, a fierce light in his eyes that reminded Erwin forcefully of the consummate soldier he had been. “Yeah. We’ll try – if we get the chance.”

The train left the town behind, steaming through the same flat fields Levi remembered from his childhood journey. Nan – Nanaba – had been so kind to the clueless little brat he’d been then…

“We’ve been lucky, this time,” Levi said, looking out at the tranquil monotony of the passing landscape. “When you think…”

“Very lucky.”

“All the lives we could have been born into…”

“Yes,” Erwin said, gazing down at his hands, thoughtfully. “It – would be nice to believe that there were some things no version of yourself would ever do.”

Levi looked at him. “Yeah. It would be nice to believe that.”

They fell silent, listening to the repetitive rhythm of the wheels, their thoughts running along parallel lines. An elderly ticket collector with a grey moustache and a vaguely familiar appearance entered the compartment, punched their tickets, and went on his way, closing the door behind him.

“He looked like –” Erwin began, just as Levi said, “Pixis…”

They both smiled, tentatively.

“Wasn’t him though.”

“No.”

An easier silence settled between them. They passed the rest of the journey peacefully, looking out of the window, or at each other, content.

 

At Earlingham railway station the only thing that seemed to have changed in twenty years was that the sign, removed in the war to confuse would-be invaders, had been replaced. Levi and Erwin stepped down from the carriage, and, through the clearing steam, made out two figures, one slight and one very tall - Nanaba, her hair and her smile as bright as they had been on the day when her eleven-year-old self had taken pity on little Lenny Akers – Mike, exactly as they remembered him, calm and strong at her side - waiting quietly for them at the end of the platform.


End file.
